Ill III 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 

i . 14- 

Shelf- B 1 



UNITED STATES OF AMEEICA. 




'UNCLE JOHN. 



Sunday Evening Talks 



WITH 



THE LITTLE FOLKS. 



BY "UNCLE JOHN." 



-? 



EDITED BY W. G. E. CUNNYNGHAM, D.D. 



--; of ce.v/^s 
~No..SAl.Qj.Q 

,. /^ 1879. <^ 



Nashyille, Tenn.: 
SOUTHERN METHODIST PUBLISHING HOUSE. 

1879. 




♦f$g Library 

ESS 



WASttlHSfE^l 



•T37 






Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1879, by 

J. B. McFERRIN, Agent, 
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



EDITORIAL NOTE. 



FOE many years " Uncle John" has been 
one of the most popular contributors to 
the Sunday School Visitor. His beautiful sto- 
ries and instructive essays have been read by 
hundreds with delight and profit who will j)e- 
ruse these pages. There is in his style a sim- 
ple purity and directness which pleases old and 
young, and, what is better, running through 
all is a vein of unaffected piety. His object is 
to do good, and we are sure no one can read 
this little book without being benefited. We 
know "Uncle John" personally, and we assure 
our readers that he is just what he represents 
himself to be — a sincere lover of young peo- 
ple. His life has been for many years, and is 
now, devoted to the education of young men. 
These "Sunday Evening Talks" will be eager- 
ly sought by his old pupils, and will be read 
by them with increased interest, because they 
have known and loved the amiable author. 
We suggest that the book may be profitably 

(3) 



Editorial Note. 



used by parents reading to their children on 
Sunday evenings. The subjects are well chosen, 
the chapters short, and the whole matter and 
style such as to instruct and amuse without 
wearying. We unite with the author in the 
prayer that God will make this little book a 
means of grace to all who shall read it! 

W. Gr. E. CUNNYNGHAM, 

Sunday School Editor. 
Nashville, Tenn., April, 1879. 



TO ELIZABETH, 

Whose modesty prefers that her image be en- 
shrined in the hearts of her friends, rather than 
that her virtues should be paraded before the 
public gaze, this volume is most respectfully in- 
scribed by her grateful husband, 

THE AUTHOE. 



INTRODUCTORY. 



]fl|OME, sit down, little folks— neph- 
ews, nieces, and all of you. Your 
Uncle John can say with Richter, 
"I love Grod and little children." 
Hence the main part of his life has been 
spent in trying to serve his Maker by 
talking to the young people. And a 
sweeter work was never undertaken by 
man or angel. 

The greatest thing you children can 
ever learn is, that there is a Grod, and 
that his knowledge extends to all our 
actions, and words, and thoughts, by 
day and by night. 

When children feel that the Almighty 
is their Father and Friend, they will 
find themselves freed from much need- 

(7) 



8 . Introductory. 

less sorrow and many foolish fears ; and 
in trying to please God, they will become 
more and more like him ? truthful and 
good. In their efforts to do right he 
will help them. Such is the teaching 
of the Bible. And outside of heaven 
there is no lovelier sight than a youth 
serving God, "in the beauty of holiness." 
In thus serving him it is understood 
that children will be kind to one anoth- 
er and to all living things. 
"An old poet hath said, 

He loveth well who loveth all, 
Both man, and bird, and beast. 

And he might have said, There is a 
sure reward here and hereafter for all 
who love in purity and truth, whether 
they be grown-up people or very little 
children." 

u Gocl is love;" and the whole plan 
of salvation is the outgrowth of love. 



Introductory. 9 

"God so loved the world that he gave 
his only-begotten Son, that whosoever 
believeth in him should not perish, but 
have everlasting life." Christ loved us 
and gave himself for us. And who can 
fathom the love of the Holy Spirit in 
purifying, upholding, and comforting 
God's peculiar people? Through love 
the angels become glad ministering 
spirits to the heirs of salvation, and, 
constrained by the love of Christ, the 
preachers everywhere publish the gos- 
pel of peace. People join the Church 
singing, "I love thy Church, God!" 
and, actuated by the same great motive, 
the Sunday-school army goes forth to 
its glorious victories. 

Love, or charity, is chief among the 
Christian virtues ; and it is with a heart 
full of love to all, and especially to you 
little folks, that your Uncle John under- 
takes to give you a few Sunday Even- 



10 Introductory, 

ing Talks. Some of them may seem 
strange, and others amusing; but give 
good attention, and they will do you 
good as long as you live, and also in 
the world to come. 

Now, as the prayer-bell is ringing, 
we must say, in good old Indian phrase, 
Alabama — here we rest — for the pres- 
ent. Uxcle Johx. 

Lark Meadows, 1878. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Obedience Rewarded 13 

The Deceitful Apple 21 

A Sad Mistake 27 

Night 34 

Seven Pictures 40 

The Dying Jewess 46 

Every Thing to Learn 52 

A Wonderful Vine 58 

The Blind Beggar 62 

Mary's Two Mammas 66 

The Humming-bird's Nest 73 

The Miser 77 

The King and the Nightingales 84 

The Weather-cock 91 

About Pets 98 

Sunset Thoughts 106 

The Lost Boy Ill 

A Candy Story 122 

Self-respect 126 

Killed by a Hornet 131 

The Bight Place 136 

Byron and St. John 142 

(ii) 



12 Contents. 

PAGE 

Craighead Cavern 147 

Description of Christ 153 

A Little Fairy Queen 157 

The Dying Boy 164 

About Clocks 170 

Judea 175 

Nearly Fifty Years Ago 183 

An Old Chestnut-tree 192 

A Waif 198 

Boasting the Ores 204 

Bose-buds 211 

My First Camp-meeting 215 

A New-year's Gift 223 

11 Thou God Seest Me' 1 228 

Mottoes and Emblems 232 

God is Good 236 

The Lord's Prayer 241 

The Stars 252 

The Commandments 256 

The Mourning Bride 264 

The Bird's Sermon 273 

Indian Corn 278 

A Lonely Widow . 281 

Bold Thinkers 285 

The Merchant 290 

Little Things 292 

The Foot-prints 296 

A Broken Chain 301 



Sunday evening talks 

WITH THE LITTLE FOLKS. 



OBEDIENCE REWARDED. 




?OOD evening, my little friends. 
Your Uncle John is glad to see 
you back again — every one of 
you. 
"Tell you a story?" Certainly, if 
you will be quiet and hear. The preach- 
ers tell us that good hearers make good 
sermons. But to begin : 

Once an orphan boy gave up all his 
plans to please his mother. This hap- 
pened a long time ago — a hundred years 
and more. Do you ever think that what 

(13) 



14 Sunday Evening Talks 

you say and do may be talked about a 
hundred years to come? Why not? In 
the good book — the Bible — we read of 
what little folks said and did thousands 
of years ago. " jSTot a sparrow falleth 
to the ground without the notice of our 
Heavenly-Father. Ye are of more value 
than many sparrows." If you serve 
God with a perfect heart and a willing 
mind you shall be had "in everlasting 
remembrance." But to go on with the 
story. 

In the year 1743 a good man died in 
Old Virginia. He left a wife and several 
children, among whom was a little boy 
named George, about eleven years of 
age. Between the father and this boy 
there had been an attachment of great 
strength and tenderness; but cruel 
death cared not for this. George wept 
over the death of his father, and re- 
solved to do all he could for the comfort 



With the Little Folks, 15 

of his mother. Hope, blessed boon to 
mortals given, never forsakes faithful 
children: it did not forsake George; 
he hoped some day to do something for 
himself and his mother. 

Unexpectedly his brightest hopes 
seemed suddenly to assume a tangible 
form. A ship came sailing up the broad 
river, and cast anchor near his mother's 
house. A man came ashore in bright 
uniform, a high officer of the British 
navy. He was a near kinsman, and 
told George many fine tales of the sea — 
of great towns, and strange people, and 
curious animals, and pretty birds, and 
nice fruits, and shining shells, and 
many, many other things which he 
wanted George to go and see for him- 
self. Then he took him down to the 
great ship, and showed him the flutter- 
ing flags and the big guns, the rigging 
of the ship, and its furniture — every 



16 Sunday Evening Talks 

thing to please the youthful mind. 
Then he showed him a beautiful uni- 
form and an elegant sword, telling 
George that they should be his, and 
that he should be a little midshipman — 
an officer — if he would go along with 
him. 

Is it any wonder that George wanted 
to go ? How many thousands of boys 
have run away from home to become 
sailors ! George wanted to see strange 
sights too ; and then he wanted to be- 
come an officer of his king and country. 
Of course he was burning with a desire 
to go with his kinsman. His mother 
had given her consent, and preparations 
were made accordingly. 

The day appointed to sail has come. 
His trunk, packed with care, has been 
carried aboard. All hands are astir for 
the long voyage. George steps ashore 
and walks briskly along the way to the 



With the Little Folks. 17 

house to bid his mother a long good-by, 
his face indicative of the conflicting 
emotions struggling in his soul. He 
dreads to leave home ; he wants to be 
honored, to see the world, and to return 
with presents rich and rare. He nears 
the old home. He bounds up the steps 
— into his mother's room. He finds her 
at prayer, her tears falling fast. She 
rises from her knees and tells George 
all — that a change has taken place in 
her mind, that she cannot consent to 
the voyage, and begs him, for her sake, 
to abandon the idea of going to sea! 
Her words fall like lead upon his heart. 
Like a shivered glass all his bright 
hopes fall to the ground. Other boys 
would not have stopped. JNTot so with 
George. His mother's will is law with 
him — as the law of God, who commands 
children to honor father and mother. 
Resolving that his mother shall never 
2 



18 Sunday Evening Talks 

know how much it costs hini, he hurries 
back to the ship and orders his trunk 
ashore. With tearful eves he thanks 
his kinsman for his intended kindness, 
bids him adieu, and returns home. 

The ship has weighed anchor and 
sailed on its long voyage. George feels 
himself a sobered, wiser bov. He feels 
he has done his duty in yielding to his 
mother's wishes, and so think we all. 

Had he broken away to sea, despite 
his mother's wishes, the sea might have 
swallowed him, "Unwept, unhonored, 
and unsung," for the Bible tells us that 
" the eye that mocketh at his father and 
scorneth to obey his mother, the ravens 
of the valley shall pluck it out, and the 
young eagles shall eat it." 

On the other hand, we are told that 
the first commandment with promise is 
to honor father and mother. In this 
case the Lord watched over George for 



With the Little, Folks. 19 

good. He gave him good days and 
much favor among men. The boy that 
obeyed his mother became the leader of 
armies — •" George Washington, first in 
war, first in peace, and first in the 
hearts of his countrymen." 

And now, dear little people, should 
your cherished plans ever have to be 
given up to please father or mother, 
make the surrender manfully, as did 
George Washington. " God is no re- 
specter of persons;" and he will also 
reward you if you " obey your parents 
in the Lord." 

There is one fact in the life of Jesus 
that deserves your special attention. 
How considerate was he of his mother ! 
When suffering on the cross he com- 
mended his widowed, weeping mother 
to John, the beloved disciple, the bestjj 
man then in the world, that she might 
be cared for. Take Jesus as your ex- 



20 Sunday Evening Talks 

ample, and have each a tender regard 
for your mother. There are few sins so 
great as that of disobedience to parents. 
Is it not written, " He that curseth 
father or mother, let him die the death?" 
Our deeds speak louder than words ; and 
to bring down a parent's gray hairs with 
sorrow to the grave is a thing abhorred 
of all good people, of the holy angels, 
and of God the maker of us all. 




With the Little Folks, 21 



THE DECEITFUL APPLE. 




> HANKS, Margaret, for this ap- 
ple, so large and nice. I hope 
it is not like another apple I 
often think about. 
"Adam's apple, Uncle John?" 
No; Adam never ate such an apple 
as the one mentioned. Eve would have 
had a hard time had she tried to per- 
suade him to do so. 
"A crab-apple, uncle?" 
No, indeed ; I had not thought of that 
small, sour fruit. But now I remember 
the debate James had with Florence the 
other day about crabs and candy, in 
which he maintained that while candy 
is good to sweeten the sour children 
at school, the crabs do more good in 
keeping the sweet ones comfortable! 



22 Sunday Evening Talks 

You will hare to guess something 
else. 

" Love-apples ? Webster tells us that 
tomatoes were once called love-apples." 

There, you are wrong again. Your 
Uncle John remembers when tomatoes 
were called love-apples. People then 
cultivated the fruit for its beauty, not 
for its excellent qualities as an article 
of diet. But guess again. 

' 'Apples of Sodom ? Adam could not 
have eaten them." 

They were bad enough : fabulous ap- 
ples, said to have been beautiful with- 
out, but full of something like ashes 
within. We have nothing to do with 
them. 

" The Apple of Discord, uncle?" 

JSTot that either : that, too, was a fab- 
ulous apple, said to have been thrown, 
by an uninvited party, into the midst of 
the invited guests at a feast of the gods, 



With the Little Folks. 23 

having inscribed upon it, in letters of 
gold, Pulcherrima habeto me — "Let the 
prettiest one have me !" If such a prize 
were thrown into your school, or even 
into this circle, what a contention it 
might produce ! But it is another kind 
of apple we are to talk about to-night. 

"Apples of gold in pictures of silver ?" 

Words fitly spoken are compared to 
such apples — one of the prettiest similes 
that even Solomon, in his matchless 
wisdom, ever employed. Such apples 
would be both precious and beautiful in 
appearance, but much more valuable in 
reality. Would that all our words — 
yours and mine — were of this character ! 

The apple I commenced to talk about 
is the veritable fruit of the true apple- 
tree — Pyrus mains — the common cider- 
apple ; though that particular one had 
not much cider in it. 

One bright day, in brown autumn, a 



24 Sunday Evening Talks 

number of hands were busy in mv fa- 
ther's orchard gathering apples. Wag- 
on-load after wagon-load had been taken 
home. Still other trees were bending 
beneath their precious burden. I, an 
overgrown lad, was up in a tree, busy 
as busy could be, with basket and line, 
filling the basket with fruit, and then 
lowering by the line to the person be- 
low, who would empty the fruit and re- 
turn the basket. Tired and thirsty, but 
not wishing to take time to go for a 
drink, I concluded to eat a ripe, juicy 
apple. There was an extra fine one 
hanging far out on a limb — it was so 
nice, and ripe, and yellow ! Holding to 
a limb with my left hand, and then 
stretching to my utmost, I seized the 
tempting apple with my right, and 
bringing it hastily to my mouth, I took 
one of the largest bites a boy ever took, 
but — tuh, tugh, tught ! I emptied my big 



With the Little Folks. 25 

mouth in a trice. The deceitful apple 
was a mere shell, thin as paste-board, 
and filled with wasps and yellow-jack- 
ets ! You may laugh ; but it was not a 
laughing matter with me. Why, my lips 
began to pout. Uncle John's tongue 
was in no condition to talk then. And 
to this day I am cautious when I bite an 
extra fine apple in autumn. I am sure 
to test it first. 

From this incident we may learn a 
lesson: not to judge from appearances. 
Many a thing may look well outwardly 
that contains what is hurtful within. 
It was the beautiful, painted, wooden 
horse, dedicated to Minerva, that had 
concealed within it the armed men that 
brought destruction to the people of Troy. 

Many a yellow-covered novel has in 
it concealed something a thousand times 
more hurtful than wasps and yellow- 
jackets ! 



26 



Sunday Evening Talks 



The wine, too, looks tempting in the 
cup ; yet its poison is infinitely worse 
than that of the deadly rattlesnake ! 

The steps of the gaudy seducer lead 
to misery in this life and to woe eternal 
hereafter. 

In every important matter take time 
to think, examine, reason. This will pre- 
vent much sorrow and remorse. 

But there is the bell for prayers. 




"With the Little Folks. 27 



A SAD MISTAKE. 




There is a tie which ZSTature knows, 
Too strong for Time to sever; 

It binds two youthful hearts in one, 
And keeps them one forever. 

jj^CTUCH, my little friends, was the 
T«JP sentiment I was reading when 
you came into my room. Now, 
if you will be seated, and all be 
quiet. I will tell you a story that may 
be of service to some of you hereafter. 
In the course of my ministry, one 
holy Sabbath morn, just before the 
break of day, 

Suddenly there came a tapping, 
As of some one quickly rapping, 
Sapping at my chamber-door. 



Two messengers had come to ask my 



28 Sunday Evening Talks 

presence in two abodes of the sick, per- 
haps of the dying. 

The first I visited was a man sud- 
denly prostrated in the noontide of life. 
His wife and little ones were weeping 
around his bed. It was plain that, 
without timely relief, he must soon die. 
Relief never came. I was glad to find 
he was a member of the Church, though 
not of my flock. He was filled with 
regrets that he had not lived a more 
exemplary Christian life. 

The other case was that of a young 
wife, the mother of two little children. 
Her husband, full of grief, met me at 
the gate. He thanked me for coming 
at once, but said his wife was very 
low. 

A glance at the invalid and the sur- 
roundings convinced me that she was 
a lady who had seen good society and 
better days. Her brow was almost 



With the Little Folks. 29 

queenly, her features faultless, her 
mouth indicative of high resolve, her 
children beautiful. 

The burden of her prayer was for 
forgiveness; she feared her sins were 
too great for pardon. The lessons read 
from the Bible — the exceeding great 
and precious promises — seemed to do 
her no good. Had she not indulged, 
and did she not still indulge, sinful 
feelings against her father and mother ? 
So she thought, as she proceeded to 
give a history of her case. She told us 
the name of her parents living near 
Washington College — how they had 
cared for her education — how they had 
gone with her to church — how they 
had become offended because she had 
married a poor young man whose head 
and heart had won her love — how she 
had been by them disowned, disinherit- 
ed, exiled — how her heart had grown 



30 Sunday Evening Talks 

bitter against them — a heart full of 
hatred. 

She asked whether she might hope 
to be forgiven of God for such wicked 
feelings toward her parents for their 
contemptuous treatment of herself and 
her husband. 

There was the great difficulty. Had 
she not filled with anguish the hearts 
of those who had watched over her 
helpless infancy? Is it not written, 
" He that curseth father and mother, 
let him die the death ? " Was not she 
still full of malice and defiance? Un- 
forgiving herself, how could she hope 
to be forgiven ? 

All the forenoon I labored to show 
her the necessity of forgiving the tres- 
passes of others, in order that pardon 
might come upon her own wretched 
soul. So far as I know, the effort was 
in vain. 



With the Little Folks. 31 

As I left to preach in the "great con- 
gregation," I heard her ask for her two 
little children, that she might "give 
them the last kiss of a mother." 

This was our first and our last inter- 
view. She soon passed down to the 
dark river. 

Many a time have I thought of that 
dying young mother. There, in a small 
cabin, where lately had stood the Indian 
wigwam, was she dying, far from the 
home, the bright home, of her girlhood. 
Strange faces looked upon her dire dis- 
tress. Once the belle of a college com- 
munity, polished, honored, shielded, 
befriended; now an exile, poor, sick, 
dying in agony; yet not a word of re- 
gret for marrying the man she loved! 
Her dying testimony was that he was 
ever true and good to her. 

Was there not some mistake in her 
marriage? And who committed the 



32 Sunday Evening Talks 

mistake — this queenly woman, or her 
imperious parents? had they but 
stood where I stood that Sabbath morn- 
ing — had they but seen and heard what 
I there heard and saw — they would 
surely have relented, would gladly have 
taken the thorns from their dying- 
daughter's pillow ! Having themselves 
married of their own free-will and ac- 
cord, ought they not to have allowed 
their daughter a similar privilege, and 
to have retained her in their affection 
and society? 

On the other hand, had she but given 
them her confidence, and patiently 
waited for their approval, how her lover 
would have measured up to a standard 
of worthiness, and won their favor! 
That children should thus defer to pa- 
rental solicitude is reasonable and right. 
But for them to cast off a noble daughter 
for no other cause than that of loving a 



With the Little Folks. 33 

worthy young man, is not reasonable. 
Here, if anywhere, conciliation should 
prevail. 

Could the proud parents and their 
rash daughter have been brought face 
to face that Sabbath morning, it is not 
improbable that each party would have 
assumed a share of the blame attached 
to their mutual estrangement. But a 
long road lay between the parents and 
the dying child. They were to meet no 
more in time. 

And now, my little friends, before we 
part to-night: It is a fearful thing to 
incur parental displeasure, to fill their 
hearts with "wormwood mingled with 
gall," and then go out into the wide, 
wide world with their frown resting 
upon the memory. None of you need 
expect to be happy in so doing. 
3 



34 Sunday Evening Talks 



XIGHT. 




<* OME in, my little dears. I am 
^^ glad to receive your weekly visit. 



But the room is rather dark this 



v. Y 



evening. In lighting the lamp, 
the chimney was broken. However, 
the cheerful coals on the one side, and 
the mellow moonlight on the other, will 
prevent the darkness from being op- 
pressive. 

By the way, darkness has its uses as 
well as light has. More than one has 
found that 

Darkness shows us worlds of light 
We never saw by day. 

My little friends should all have cor- 
rect notions of the ever-returning period 
of darkness called night. It is occa- 



With the Little Folks. 35 

sioned by the absence of our greatest 
luminary, the sun, and it is merely a 
time of privation, not of evils, "ghosts 
and goblins dire." 

1. At night we are deprived of the il- 
luminating rays of the sun. Then we 
can see but indistinctly, if at all. Hence 
all the foolish stories of strange sights 
— ghost stories, as they are called. 
Even great men, like Dr. Johnson, have 
at times felt afraid at night, as the con- 
ceptions engendered by nursery tales 
have come up to trouble them. JNTow all 
this is wrong. Could the full light of 
day be poured clown upon the world, at 
any moment of the night, all things 
would appear just as we see them in 
common. Let this idea be firmly fixed 
in your minds, and there will be no 
room for the foolish fears that torment 
the ignorant and the superstitious. God 
sees all things at night as they really 



36 Sunday Evening Talks 

are. So ought we to consider them. 
We have no more cause to be afraid by 
night than when the sun is brightly 
shining all around. During more than 
fifty years your Uncle John has been 
abroad all hours of the night, in high- 
ways and by-ways, in woods and fields, 
in town and country, by church-yards 
and in places where men had been found 
murdered, and he has never seen any 
ghost haunting his pathway. Other 
people have thought they saw some- 
thing dreadful, but on examination it 
turned out to be a stump, or stone, or 
goose, or calf! Night and day are alike 
to God, and they are equally kind to us. 
2. The warming rays of the sun are 
not felt at night ; hence there is a fall 
of temperature, also a deposition of clew 
in summer and of frost in winter. The 
night air is thus more cold and moist 
than the air by day. There is also a 



With the Little Folks. 37 

small decrease in the amount of carbon- 
ic acid gas. But you may bottle up the 
night air and keep it till morning, when 
you will find it very good common air ! 
Clear views on this subject 

Would from many a blunder free us, 
And hurtful notion. 

To hear some people talk, one might 
think there is something dreadful in 
night air that is not to be found in the 
air by day. This is all foolishness. 

3. Again, at night there is a privation 
of the sun's actinic, or chemical rays. 
Without this actinic agency photo- 
graphs cannot be taken. Without it, 
vegetables remain, like potato - vines 
growing in a dark place, white, watery, 
sickly — maturing no seed or other germ 
of reproduction. Without this principle 
of light, even the animal economy yields 
to disease. The darkest lanes and tene- 



38 Sunday Evening Talks 

ments of a great city are the favorite 
resort of disease and death. And yet 
many riot in the night-time, and shut 
themselves up from the light of the sun 
by day, thus contemning the laws of 
nature which allots to man the hours of 
darkness for needful repose and renova- 
tion, and calls him to healthful labor 
under the rays of the life-giving sun. 
Of course nature resents the affront. 
The evils thus brought upon our race 
are greater and more numerous than 
many are wont to believe. 

Mght, like other good gifts of God, 
may be misused or abused. All bless- 
ings, when perverted, turn to curses. 
The fire that glows there before you 
may be useful or hurtful, according to 
the manner in which it is employed; 
and so of all other gifts of nature. Even 

Mercy kncnvs its appointed bounds. 
And turns to vengeance there. 



With the Little Folks. 39 

You, my little friends, Have not fallen 
into the bad habit of spending the night 
in revelry and dissipation. But there 
are thousands, in town and country, 
who have proved that, here as well as 
elsewhere, "the way of the transgressor 
is hard." 

Franklin was right when he said, 

Early to bed and early to rise, 

Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise. 

So, to practice our preaching, we will 
have prayers and retire. I hope you all 
may have pleasant dreams. 



Uted4tf0£S& 






Y 



40 Suedat Etching Tales 



SEVEN PICTURES. 



f\T*- ? ELL. you find the lamp all 
. ,i 7 / right this Sunday evening. 
ViT Here are a few pictures tl 
convey a very solemn lesson. 

This one was taken some years ago. 
It represents a nice wedding at an old- 
time log house. Here you see the 
young, beautiful, blushing bride : and 
there is the man who has iust vowed to 
" love her. comfort her. and keep her. in 
sickness and in health: and. forsaking 
all other, to keep himself unto her so 
long as both -hail live." What pride 

ms to beam from the face of the 
bride's mother! Beautiful mother and 
beautiful daughter. Happy every face 
in all the group. Even the dog seems 
to partake a: the general ]oy. I have 



With the Little Folks. 41 

often thought that Jesus did well to com- 
mence his ministry of miracles at a wed- 
ding in Galilee. 

Here is another picture taken a few 
years later. You will recognize the 
man — the bridegroom of the first pict- 
ure — only a little older, less tidy. He 
seems unhappy. Crime is surely stamped 
upon that face ! The woman riding by 
his side is " a strange woman." In her 
hand are two small packages : on one 
you see the name "Arsenic;" on the 
other, "Ipecac." Her face is as guilty 
as his : God has set his mark upon both, 
as he did on Cain. 

In this third picture you see a family 
at dinner — father, mother, a beautiful 
son and a winsome daughter. The 
mother is twelve years older than when 
we saw her a bride. What a lovely 
family, except the father! What a 
fiendish gleam darts from his eyes as 



42 Sunday Evening Talks 

lie serves out that dish of beans ! Where 
sleeps the sword of justice that it does 
not strike him dead for such a look! 
]\ T or Judas, nor Benedict Arnold, ever 
looked more like a demon. Something 
bad must surely happen. 

Here is the saddest picture you ever 
saw. The beautiful bride that we saw 
in the first scene, and the beautiful boy 
and girl that we saw in the last, are 
here laid out, ready to be put in these 
black coffins. How thunder-struck all 
the neighbors seem! All the family 
poisoned but one, and he still vomiting, 
this the second day, from an overdose ! 
Who could have done the awful deed? 
A mystery like a dark shadow rests 
upon the crime. 

Here is another marriage scene — the 
same guilty man and the same " strange 
woman !" If you never saw a murderess 
before, you see one in this female figure. 



With the Little Folks. 43 

See the expression of each, countenance. 
Each glance shows a knowledge of the 
other's baseness, as well as individual 
guilt. What mockery to call this 
"holy wedlock!" How they dare the 
Almighty's frown! 

But here is another picture — an hon- 
est-looking woodsman, horror-struck as 
this same demon-like man confesses all — 
that he put the arsenic into that dish of 
beans and dosed himself with ipecac, to 
blind his neighbors ; that ever since he 
dished out the beans to wife and chil- 
dren he has been a living hell to him- 
self; that the pale faces of the dead 
wife and children have haunted him day 
and night — in dreams by night as well 
as m thoughts by day ; that he cannot 
endure it longer. Here is this mis- 
creant begging the woodsman to dis- 
patch him with his ax, and put an end 
to his wretchedness. Your Uncle John 



44 Sunday Evening Talks 

knew this honest woodsman well, and 
had from his aged lips this guilty man's 
horrible confession. 

Here is the last picture. The great 
king of day has come up the eastern 
sky, filling the world with his glory. 
Here is a meadow lately cut with the 
mower's scythe, but now green with the 
fresh aftermath. Here, in the remote 
corner, lies the owner, his head half- 
blown away by a heavy charge of his 
gun ; the gun lying by his side, his toe 
still near the trigger ! 

We will now put this horrid picture 
away. How different this man's life 
might have been ! But he listened to 
the voice of the tempter. Once in the 
road to ruin, he ran with increasing 
speed. The lowest depths were reached 
at last. 

The Bible is loud in its warnings 
against such a course. The way of wis- 



With the Little Folks. 



45 



dom is a very different path — a path of 
pleasantness and peace — a path on which 
rest the smiles of Heaven. 

But there is the sweet-toned little 
bell calling us to prayers. Let us go. 




46 Sunday Evening Talks 



THE DYING JEWESS. 




MOTHER story? Certainly, 
just as it was once told to me : 

A few years ago a preacher 
in Virginia was about to close 
the services, when he saw an old man, 
apparently a Jew, enter the assembly. 
His dress and manners showed him a 
man of culture. His noble brow gave 
tokens of inward grief. He took a seat, 
and was soon absorbed in the subject 
discussed. The unconscious tear be- 
dewed his cheek. 

After service, the preacher approached 
the stranger, and said: "Am I correct? 
am I not addressing one of the children 
of Abraham ? " 

The answer was, " Yes, you are." 
The minister expressed his pleasure 



With the Little Folks. 47 

and surprise at seeing a Jew in a Chris- 
tian assembly, whereupon the aged Is- 
raelite related his experience as follows : 
"I was born in London, of respecta- 
ble parentage, and was blessed with a 
superior education. According to our 
custom, I married a daughter of Israel. 
•To us there was born an only child. In 
process of time my wife died. Then, 
gathering up my books, my riches, and 
my daughter, I came over to America, 
and found a charming retreat on the 
banks of the Ohio. Here I knew no 
happiness but in that of my amiable 
daughter of seventeen summers, who 
was worthy of any father's love. She 
was surrounded by beauty as by a man- 
tle; but her cultured mind and her 
matchless disposition gave her a charm 
above all outward decorations. No 
pains had been spared in her education. 
She could read, and could even speak, 



48 Sunday Evening Talks 

several languages, and her manners 
impressed every beholder. Xo wonder, 
then, that her father, whose head was 
sprinkled with gray, should have placed 
his affections on his only child, especial- 
ly as I looked for no happiness beyond 
this present world. Being a strict Jew, 
I had educated her in the strictest 
principles of the Jewish religion, and 
thought I had thus presented it an or- 
nament. 

" It was but lately that this girl was 
taken sick. My happiness waned as the 
rose faded from her cheek, the light from 
her eye, the strength from her frame. 
my heart seemed ready to burst 
with anguish ! All medical helps failed. 
While walking in the grove not far from 
the house, a messenger came from my 
daughter asking my presence at her 
bedside. As I entered her chamber I 
felt that death would soon follow, and 



With the Little Folks. 49 

that the last farewell must soon be said ; 
and my religion gave me but feeble 
hope of ever seeing her again. 

" My child took rny hand in hers, 
now cold in death, and said, ' My father, 
do you love me?' 'My child,' said I, 
'you know I love you — that you are 
more dear to me than all the world be- 
sides.' 'But, father, do you love me?' 
' Why, my child, will you give me pain 
so exquisite ? Have I never given you 
proofs of my love ? ' ' But, my dearest 
father, do you love me?' she said. I 
could not answer ; but she added, ' I 
know, my dear father, you have ever 
loved me; you have been the kindest 
of parents, and I tenderly love you. 
Will you grant me one request ? my 
father, it is my dying request — will you 
grant it ? ' ' My dearest child, ask what 
you will ; though it take every cent of 
my property, whatever it be, it shall be 
4 



50 Sunday Evening Talks 

granted — I will grant your request.' 
' My clear father, I beg you never again 
to speak against Jesus of Nazareth,' 
said she. 

" I was dumb with astonishment. 

" The dying girl continued, 'I know 
but little of this Jesus, having never 
been taught. But I know he is a Sav- 
iour, for he has manifested himself to 
me since I have been sick, even in the 
salvation of my soul. I believe he will 
save me, though I never before loved 
him. I feel that I am going to him — 
that I shall be with him. And now, 
father, I beg that you will never again 
speak evil of this Jesus of Xazareth. 
I entreat you to obtain a Xew Testa- 
ment that tells of him ; and I pray you, 
too, may know him ; and when I am no 
more, you may bestow on him the love 
that was formerly mine.' 

"Here her stren°*th failed, and I fled 



With the Little Folks. 51 

from the room; but ere I could sum- 
mon fortitude to return, her spirit had 
taken its flight, I trust, to that Saviour 
whom she loved. 

" The first thing I did, after commit- 
ting to the grave my last earthly joy, 
was to procure a JSTew Testament. This 
I have read ; and, taught by the Spirit 
of which it also treats, I trust I am now 
an humble follower of the Lamb of God 
that taketh away the sin of the world." 

There, the story is ended, just as the 
bell calls us to prayers. I will detain 
you with but one remark: JS'one but 
Christians die triumphantly. I hope 
you will all be Christians, not merely 
in name, but in spirit and in truth. 



52 Sunday Evening Talks 



EVERY THING TO LEARN. 




'HURSDAY night, at your reci- 
tations, I heard a little voice ex- 
claim : " That was a hard task ; 
it seemed like I never could get 
the Multiplication Table." Yet that 
same little speaker recited correctly all 
the hard columns. Now, " never grow 
weary in well-doing, for in due season 
we shall reap, if we faint not.' 7 

A child has every thing to learn. 
The infant mind has been compared to 
a sheet of blank paper: there are no 
impressions thereon, but in process of 
time how many, many photographs it 
may contain ! 

At first, the child knows nobody — 
nothing. It has to learn about light 
and darkness^ the seasons, the articles 



TVith the Little Folks. 53 

of food and clothing. Xanies must be 
found for every thins:. Thousands of 
words must be had. Faces, and facts, 
and fancies, of everv-dav life, must be 
remembered. 

Here is emphatically fulfilled the say- 
ing of the Saviour: "Whosoever hath, 
to him shall be given, and he shall have 
more abundance; but whosoever hath 
not. from him shall be taken away even 
that he hath. ? ' The importance of a 
good start can never be overestimated. 
Parents, teachers, preachers, all should 
feed the lambs of their respective flocks. 
A little key unlocks a great treasure. 
Each new fact becomes a key to farther 
progress. What an incentive to learner 
and teacher! And what a pleasure! 
My whole life has been spent in learn- 
ing new things and in imparting in- 
struction to others. Xo one ever en- 
joved such work more than your Uncle 



54 Sunday Evening Talks 

John. It is sweet to feel the satisfac- 
tion of new discovery ; and it is sweet 
to see the learners eye sparkle with 
delight as we impart to him new intelli- 
gence. 

Learning brings its own reward, if 
truth be the object. Xot a day, not an 
hour, of our wakeful life need ^mss away 
without bringing us some new truth, 
some new delight. " Never too old to 
learn!" Happy thought ! blessed real- 
ity ! We may continue our progress in 
knowledge to all eternity. There are 
knowing ones in heaven to-day whose 
knowledge is neater than that which 
many people ascribe to God ; and yet 
they are but in the dawn of their acqui- 
sitions. 

Human knowledge has wonderfully 
increased since the historic period be- 
gan; yet all human acquirements are 
to the attainments of the saved as the 



With the Little Folks. 55 

glow-worm when compared to the burn- 
ing luminary of heaven. 

My dear little learners, you have al- 
ready made wonderful progress. Start- 
ing at nothing, you have facts more in 
number than the hairs on your head. 
You know thousands of words — the 
keys of farther knowledge. The higher 
one climbs up a mountain, the wider his 
vision of earth and sky, and the grander 
his conceptions of the vast domain of 
the Almighty. The more you learn, 
the more you will be impressed with 
the infinitude and richness of the realm 
of knowledge. 

But avoid shams : a rotten beam in 
a ship endangers a whole cargo of pre- 
cious freight. A sham — a fallacy — is 
more to be dreaded than a broken bone. 
" Buy the truth, and sell it not," " With 
all thy getting, get understanding." 
" Wisdom is the principal thing." 



56 Sunday Evening Talks 

Be not discouraged at the task before 
you. All the learned men once begun 
at A 3 B, C. The great mathematicians 
who now calculate the eclipses of the 
sun and moon, and the motions of the 
planets, were once unable to count their 
fingers. The renowned theologians once 
stumbled in the first catechism. The 
voluminous historians once knew no 
more than the dullest baby now knows. 
All the eminent men once had less of 
knowledge than each one of you has to- 
day. Some day you may rank among 
the wise ones of earth, if you will but 
persevere. Not to try is unbecoming 
any intelligent creature made in the 
image of Grocl. 

One of the greatest curses that ever 
fell upon any youth is indifference as to 
mental culture. Two boys are playing 
together : the one is taken to adorn the 
highest stations in life ; his companion 



With the Little Folks. 57 

lacked energy and application, and is 
doomed to neglect and ignominy. They 
have worked out their respective desti- 
nies. 

Rely upon it, much depends, under 
God, upon your own efforts. To stimu- 
late you to well-directed, sustained ef- 
fort, is a work worthy of the mightiest 
angel that ever went abroad on a mis- 
sion of mercy. 



°&* 




58 Sunday Evening Talks 



A WONDERFUL YIXE. 



| ISHOP McTYEIRE, in one of 

$& his admirable letters from Cali- 
Y fornia, made mention of a famous 
vine that lias attracted the atten- 
tion of the reading world. His account 
is as follows : 

" The legend is that, sixty years ag 
an Indian girl rode from Santa Clara 
Valley, over a hundred miles, and on 
reaching home her switch — a piece of 
vine — was stuck in the ground. It is 
said to be four feet in circumference. 
and that its fruit supports the family 
that owns it. ' How much does it yield ? ' 
I asked my cicerone. i This year the 
crop is short — not more than two tons ; 
they have been having so many fandan- 
goes under it. and neglected it ; but it 



With the Little Folks. 59 

has yielded four tons of grapes at a 
crop.' It was too dark for our look of 

incredulity to be seen." 

This account given by the good Bish- 
op suggests an incident that once oc- 
curred at Millersburg, Bourbon county, 
Ivy. Your Uncle John had been tell- 
ing his host, Dr. Savage, about a noted 
vine seen in his travels — a vine which 
was adjudged by business men to have 
borne twenty bushels of grapes at a 
crop. 

"I don't doubt it at all," said the 
Doctor, "for I had occasion to note the 
crop of my one vine the other day. I 
had said that there were two thousand 
bunches on it; but, as some of my 
friends thought I w r as too high in my 
figures, we counted the bunches, and 
found them more than two thousand 
three hundred." 

But to return to the California vine. 



60 SUKDAY EVEHHTG TaERB 

"Sixty years ago!" Now who « 
tell us how much delicious fruit it has 

borne in that Long stretch of years? 
how many men. women, and children 
hare tasted t how many her 

switches have e >ne, dii : jtly :::. 3 in li- 
rectly. from this gran c ] ;1 t ?k. to be 
cultivated elsewhere? and how much 
more good it and its counties- prog 
may yet do in supporting -ether families ? 
Is there not a wealth of meaning in the 
declaration of Scripture. "He shall 
grow as the vine ? " How forcible wh 
applied to the Christian "always al )nnd- 
ing in the work of the Lord!" Who 
is so base as to he content : 
"barren and unfruitful" when we should 
be "abounding in every good word - 
work?" 

How easy to have destroyed that 
sv:itcfi ! How easy to have broken it! 
to hare neglected it ! to have thrown it 



With the Little Folks. 61 

into the fire! Then no such vine; no 
luscious fruitage ; no countless offspring. 

So it is in the moral world. " Take 
heed that you despise not one of these 
little ones." What if Luther had been 
strangled in his cradle ? What if Wes- 
ley had burned with the parsonage at 
Epworth ? 

Let us think of this wonderful vine 
when dealing with the little children in 
Sunday-school and elsewhere. 




62 Sunday Evening Talks 



THE BLIKD BEGGAR. 




OUR music, my little birdies, 
on the back porch this afternoon, 
was sweet and becoming. There 
ought to be much more singing 
among children, and old people, too, for 
that matter. 

What pleasures our ears afford us! 
It would be a great privation to have 
no hearing — no speech, no melody. Yet 
it is said that it is still a greater afflic- 
tion to be deprived of sight Did you 
ever try to imagine the dark, dark night 
that ever oppresses the blind ? They 
see not the king of day, nor the queen 
and shining retinue of night. They 
never saw the hills, nor the valleys, 
nor the fields, nor the trees, nor the 
flowers, nor the birds, nor the face of a 



With the Little Folks. 63 

friend, nor even the bread they eat — 
everv thing covered with the blackness 

of darkness. How gloomy their case 
must he ! Your Uncle John is always 
sorrv to see any blind person, especial- 
ly a blind child, doomed to a long, ray- 
less night. if we could lead such to 
some great doctor to have their eves 
opened, as Jesus opened the eyes of 
the blind in the days of old ! 

But if we cannot help them to see 
the beauties of this world, we may aid 
them to find their way to heaven. 
"There shall be no night there." Is it 
not written. " Blessed are the pure in 
heart, for they shall see God ? ; ' 

Suppose we put the following lines 
into the mouth of that old blind man 
that came here begging yesterday, and 
let him sing them with his trembling 
voice, while we sit and listen to the 
sono- : 



64 Sunday Evening Talks 

I am old and blind! 
Men point at me as smitten by God's frown, 
Afflicted, and deserted of my kind — 

Yet I am not east down ! 

I am weak, yet strong: 

I murmur not that I no longer see: 
Poor. old. and helpless. I the more belong. 
Father Supreme, to thee. 

Merciful One! 
When men are farthest then thou art most near! 
When men pass by. my weakness shun. 

Thy chariot I hear! 

Thy glorious face 
Is leaning toward me. and its holy light- 
Shines in upon my lonely dwelling-place, 

And there is no more night! 

On my bended knee 
I recognize thy purpose, clearly shown — 
My vision th-ou hast dimmed that I may see 

Thyself, thyself alone! 

I have naught to fear: 
This darkness is the shadow of thy wing: 
Beneath it I am surely blessed. Here 

Can come no evil thing. 



With the Little Folks. 65 

O I seem to stand 
Trembling, where foot of mortal ne'er hath been, 
Bathed in the radiance of that sinless land 

Which eye hath never seen! 

Yisions come and go — 
Shapes of heavenly beauty round me throng — 
From angel lips I seem to hear the flow 

Of soft and holy song! 

It is nothing now 
When heaven is opening on my sightless eyes — 
When airs from paradise refresh my brow — 

The earth in darkness lies. 

In a purer clime 
My being fills with rapture — waves of thought 
Eoll in upon my spirit — strains sublime 

Break over me, unsought. 

Give me now my lyre ! 
I feel the stirring of a gift divine! 
Within my bosom glows unearthly fire 

Lit by no skill of mine! 

Well, there comes your Aunt Lizzie 
with some apples. Fall to eating. You 
see they are very fine. Thank God for 
eyes ! 



66 Sunday Evening Talks 



MARY'S TWO MAMMAS. 




g|£ HAT is right, my little folks : 
let your wee visitor have the 
small chair. Poor little orphan ! 
We should always be kind to 
children whose father and mother are 
dead. 

Now, if you will all be quiet, you shall 
hear of a little girl that had two mam- 
mas. You need not look surprised, as 
if there was some mistake about it. 
Your Uncle John knew the girl well, 
and once gave her a book having pretty 
pictures, but none of the pictures were 
as pretty as herself. Just wait a min- 
ute, and vou will hear how it was. 

There were two families — the Dorans 
and the Maxwells — living on opposite 
sides of the same farm. The Dorans 



With the Little Folks. 67 

were rich, the owners of the land, and 
lived in a fine house on a hill ; the Max- 
wells were renters, and lived in a cabin, 
in a hollow. Both families were good 
and kind — every way worthy people. 
At each house there was an only child : 
Doran's, a boy ; Maxwell's, a girl; both 
of tender age. 

As winter wore on Mr. Maxwell took 
a fever, as did his wife a few days later. 
The Dorans spent much of their time 
nursing the sick. But at the end of two 
weeks Mr. Maxwell died, much lament- 
ed by all who knew him, especially by 
the members of the Church to which he 
belonged. The day of his funeral was 
rainy. A cold north wind set in, bring- 
ing first sleet, and then snow. Every 
thing seemed ready to freeze. 

After the funeral the Dorans went 
home, took dinner and supper com- 
bined, did up the evening work, and 



68 Sunday Evening Talks 

made their arrangements to return to 
spend the night with Mrs. Maxwell, 
who had grown worse since the death 
of her husband. 

Doran, having come in from superin- 
tending the feeding of the live stock, 
took his seat before the blazing fire. 
Drowsiness, from exposure to the cold 
and from previous loss of rest, came 
over him. At length he broke the si- 
lence that had reigned all the evening 
by proposing to retire to rest. 

" I think we ought to go over to Max- 
well's again to-night," said Mrs, Doran, 
smoothing her feelings and stroking the 
curls of her little boy. 

"My dear, they will have plenty of 
company — their newly arrived kinsfolk, 
the Jordans and the Thompsons. We 
are so worn down." 

"I know all that; but I fear Hester 
will die before morning, and I feel that 



With the Little Folks. 69 

she wants us there. She knows us ; she 
does not know them so well, and they 
will not know so well what to do for 
her." 

" But it is so cold, and we are so tired 
and sleepy. Let us sleep awhile; we 
can then go over." 

u Perhaps your plan is best." 

" Shall we omit prayers to-night? we 
are so worn down." 

"Any way to suit you; but somehow 
I always feel better when we have of- 
fered up the sacrifice." 

A lesson was read in the New Testa- 
ment: "All things whatsover ye would 
that men should do unto you, do ye even 
so unto them ; for this is the law and 
the prophets." Then followed a stanza 
of a hymn closing, 

And act to each a brother's part, 
And feel his sorrow in my heart. 

In the prayer thanks were rendered 



70 Sunday Evening Talks 

unto God for the consolations lie had 
vouchsafed to good men in all ages, and 
especially to the neighbor lately de- 
ceased ; and supplication was made for 
the sick widow and the orphan child, in 
every time of need. 

Having retired, the weary ones were 
soon asleep. But they were aroused in 
the night by heavy knocking and loud 
callings at the door. Said the messen- 
ger : 

" Mrs. Maxwell is dying, and wants 
to see Mrs, Doran before she dies/' 

"Go tell her we will be there pres- 
ently/' said Mr. Doran, striking a light. 

It was not long before they entered 
the room where death was doing his 
fatal work. Mrs. Maxwell was almost 
gone. Pressing the hand of Mrs. Doran, 
she said in broken whispers: "I am 
glad you've come. God bless you for 
all you've done for me and all you may 



With the Little Folks. 71 

clo for Tier! I give Mary, my blessed 
child, to you. for Jesus' sake train 
her up for heaven !" 

After this her mind rested. Few and 
short were the words she afterward ut- 
tered. Among them were recognized 
"Lord," "Mercy," "Mary," "Heaven," 
"Jesus' sake." 

An hour after she breathed her last. 

From that day Mary had a home at 
Doran's. All this occurred before Mary 
was old enough to remember any thing. 
She grew up to call Mrs. Doran mother; 
and the little boy, brother. Mrs. Doran 
begged her neighbors not to let the girl 
know she was an orphan. She was six 
years old when I was sent to the circuit. 
I remember the two playful children as 
if I had seen them but yesterday- — how 
they one evening chased a large yellow 
butterfly, and came back with roses 
blooming upon their cheeks. Then it 



72 Sunday Evening Talks 

was that I gave each the picture-book. 
Away they darted to show "mamma" 
their treasure. I have no idea that 
Mary ever knew she was an orphan. 

But four weeks elapsed while I went 
round my circuit. I returned. Mrs. 
Doran was there, with tears in her eyes. 
Her little son was asleep on the lounge. 
No Mary was there to meet me with 
her smiles. Diphtheria had caused her 
death. There was her crib, or cradle, 
beside her "mamma's" bed; there her 
little armed chair ; there her doll and 
playthings ; there the same picture- 
book. To this day the remembrance 
of that scene fills my eyes with tears. 

We all loved Mrs. Doran for her 
motherly kindness to little Mary. I 
think such kindness is admired by the 
angels and approved of God. 



With the Little Folks. 73 



THE HUMMING-BIRD'S NEST. 




^Tffp VERY eye, my little friends, 
f^l sees the sun. That is nothing 
new. But how few ever saw the 
nest of the humming-bird — the 
Trochilus minimus — the smallest bird 
known to naturalists ! Where does it 
build its mansions, that quick, bright, 
beautiful, wee bit of bird, a compound 
of happiness, grace, music, and color? 
Shall we find it with the whip-poor- 
will's, on the hard, bare ground? or 
with the woodpecker's, in the stock of 
some dead tree? or with the lark's, in 
the growing grass? or with the spar- 
row's, among the roses ? And when we 
find it, what will be the fashion thereof, 
the materials out of which it is made, and 
what the number and color of its eggs ? 



74 Sunday Evening Talks 

Now, keep quiet a moment, and you 
shall hear. Your Uncle John saw it 
with his own eyes. But he wishes that 
it might have been seen by some poetic 
genius who would have embalmed it in 
verse as sprightly and beautiful as the 
humming-bird itself. 

Leading through a dense forest of tall 
trees and saplings was an old road, worn 
down about two feet below the common 
level of the ground. Bent down, rain- 
bow fashion, across this road, was one 
of the tall saplings, bent by a heavy 
snow of the preceding winter. Under 
the arch thus formed passed travelers — 
foot and horse — every day. On the top 
of this arch, over the big road, was the 
diminutive nest, about as large as a 
man's thumb. It was made entirely of 
lichens. Within were two white eggs 
as small as peas, a treasure of which 
the parent birds seemed excessively 



With the Little Folks. 75 

proud. While one sat on the nest the 
other would flit around with gleeful 
sound and motion, or sit upon an adja- 
cent bough, and then dart away again, 
and anon return. Fit type of conjugal 
felicity. 

Every day I visited my little friends, 
as intent to learn their habits as ever 
Huber was to learn about bees and ants. 
But ere the eggs were hatched, I was 
summoned to watch over a sick friend — 
"of more value than many sparrows." 
Six weary weeks elapsed ere I could re- 
turn. I found no humming-birds. The 
very nest was gone. Had it been 
wrecked by the storm? Had some 
hideous owl been there and gobbled up 
the little ones at a bite ? Had some pass- 
ing mill-boy discovered my treasure and 
committed the double crime of robbery 
and murder ? Had the parents escaped, 
and fled back to the land of flowers ? 



76 Sunday Evening Talks 

Cruel fate ! not to leave that nice nest 
that would have graced any cabinet of 
curiosities in the world ! That is all I 
have ever seen of humming-birds' nests. 




"With the Little Folks. 77 



THE MISER, 




OU see, my clear little ones, that 
prayers came earlier to-night 
than common : some of the fam- 
ily wished to lie down early, so 
as to gain a little sleep, after their long- 
trip on the cars. 

Did you notice what emphasis was 
laid upon covetousness in the evening 
lesson? It is a great sin, and is every- 
where so treated in the Bible. " The 
deceitf ulness of riches " is a very signifi- 
cant expression, and fraught with dan- 
ger. The Bible tells us of persons fall- 
ing into gross crimes, and yet being 
restored and saved ; but does it tell of a 
single miser that was ever reclaimed? 
Balaam, and Gehazi, and Judas, and 
Ananias, and Sapphira, are fearful ex- 



78 Sunday Evening Talks 

amples to the contrary. Now, while 
you are all so quiet, I will tell you 
a story of a miser. May be some of 
you clo not know what the word miser 
means. It is from the Latin tongue — 
miser, miserable! It is applied to a 
man who, in the midst of plenty, is too 
stingy to use what he has, and makes 
himself miserable by not using his 
means to relieve his wants. It is a 
miserable wretch that is the subject of 
our story this evening. I hope none 
of you will ever become misers. 

There are three classes in society: 
first, spendthrifts, who foolishly waste 
their means for whatever may strike 
their fancy ; secondly, sensible people, who 
cheerfully spend their money for what 
is right and proper ; thirdly, misers, who 
would as soon lose an e} r e-tooth as part 
with a dollar. To this last class be- 
longed the subject of this history. His 



With the Little Folks. 79 

real name you need not know : the peo- 
ple called him Close Fist ! 

Somehow he managed to get married 
— a great calamity to a very worthy 
woman ; for he gave her a deal of trou- 
ble to the day of her death. The old 
women of the neighborhood said that 
Close Fist whipped his wife at times; 
that her arms were sometimes spotted 
for days, with the marks of his pinch- 
ing. Once a neighbors child took sick 
at night, and going over to get some 
medicine, just as he approached the 
door, he heard Close Fist abusing his 
wife in a most cruel manner. After 
knocking, the door was opened: there 
was the woman crying ; but Close Fist 
coolly asked, "Wife, does your tooth 
still ache ?" 

Some said he almost starved her upon 
his miserly fare. Such shoes as she 
was forced to wear! What tattered 



80 Sunday Evening Talks 

bonnets and patched dresses ! He 

would sell off the hams and all the 
best pieces of bacon — it would fetch 
cash — the hard dollars, that would do 
to keep. He sold his wheat and ate 
corn-bread — not because he liked it. but 
because it was cheaper — it cost less 
money. He fed his horses on straw: 
hay would bring silver. He burned 
pine-knots for a light : tallow would 
sell. His beds were straw : feathers 
smelled of money. His clothes were 
sometimes so patched that an expert 
might have mistaken the original fabric 
and color ; and his hat was such a fright 
that the crows fled at its approach ! He 
refused to pay out money, except for 
taxes. Coffee and sugar he held in ut- 
ter contempt, except a pound of each 
when a new baby was to be named. As 
for books, he had none, except the Bible 
which the agent gave him. and now and 



With the Little Folks. 81 

then a patent almanac. He had no use 
for newspapers, never took one in his 
life. He believed in salting his stock 
on Sunday, as he then had more time 
than he knew what to do with. Beg- 
gars always gave him the go-by. He 
seldom went to church, except at funer- 
als ; the people were too dressy. Of all 
the Churches, he preferred the Anti- 
missionary Baptists ; they never called 
for money ! He never gave a dime to 
Sunday-schools. 

Any fine morning in corn-plowing 
time you might have seen him and his 
boys watching for the coming of the 
light, so they could distinguish the rows 
and not break the tender corn. I saw 
him thus, with my own eyes. As soon 
as broad daylight came, how he urged 
his poor horses and all hands to work ! 
And what broad fields were his ! If at 
a distance from the house, a cold lunch, 
6 



82 Sunday Evening Talks 

taken in a fence-corner or under a tree, 
sufficed for dinner. Then, when at 
length night came down upon men and 
horses, he quit for home — night, wel- 
come to his jaded men and horses, but 
not to him. How^ abject his boys, and 
how ready to leave such a home ! But 
money he made — made from wheat, and 
corn, and cattle, and hogs, and hay — 
hard money — money that would jingle. 
Jingle ! that was the voice of his god. 

To end the story, his life had its close. 
He was laid upon a sick-bed. One of 
his sons came to see him. "Mv son," 
said the dying man, " never treat your 
wife as I treated your mother that is 
dead — killed by cruelty." Thus he 
died. 

The neighbors gathered in to bury 
him. All hands agreed to count the 
heaps of money he had laid away. A 
half-dozen dollars were found in a hole 



With the Little Folks. 



83 



in the wall. No more could be found. 
It was supposed to be buried under 
ground. His children came, and went, 
and searched everywhere. The neigh- 
bors assisted in digging, here and there 
and elsewhere. What went with all the 
money he made during a long, laborious 
life, is still a mystery. He lived in 
vain. 




84 Sunday Evening Talks 



THE KING AND THE NIGHTIN- 
GALES. 




>HIS evening, children, we will 
consider the legend of King 
Edward and the nightingales. 
The nightingale — Luscinia 
philomela — is much better known in 
England than with us. Thus Izaak 
Walton : 

" But the nightingale, another of my 
airy creatures, breathes such sweet, loud 
music out of her little instrumental 
throat, that it might make mankind to 
think that miracles are not ceased. He 
that at midnight, when the very laborer 
sleeps securely, should hear, as I very 
often have, the clear airs, the sweet 
descants, the natural rising and falling, 
the doubling and redoubling of her 



With the Little Folks. 85 

voice, might well be lifted up above the 
earth, and say, Lord, what music hast 
thou provided for the saints in heaven, 
when thou affordest bad men such music 
on earth!" 

But these birds did not thus delight 
King Edward the Confessor. This 
ascetic monarch chose Havering-atte- 
Bower, in Essex, as his favorite place 
of retirement. Here he would shut 
himself up for weeks at a time. But 
his seclusion in that solitary wood 
brought him one annoyance : the night- 

o Jo 

ingales would sing while the king went 
through his prayers — long, superstitious 
prayers. He was sorely vexed, but too 
pious to curse. So he betook himself to 
his favorite saint, and prayed him to put 
a stop to the noise of the birds. The 
result is thus given by Charles Mackay. 
I think vou will say. " Served him 
right." 



86 Sunday Evening Talks 

King Edward dwelt at Havering-atte-Bower; 
Old, and enfeebled by the weight of power; 
Sick of troublous majesty of kings, 
Weary of duty and all mortal things; 
Weary of day, weary of night, forlorn — 
Cursing, like Job, the hour that he was born; 
Thick woods environ him, and in their shade 
He roamed all day, and told his beads and 

prayed. 
Men's faces pained him, and he barred his 

door 
That none might find him; even the sunshine 

bore 
No warmth or comfort to his wretched sight; 
And darkness pleased no better than the light. 

He scorned himself for. eating food like men, 
And lived on roots, and water from the fen; 
And aye he groaned, and bowed his hoary 

head; 
Did penance, and put nettles in his bed; 
Wore sack-cloth on his loins, and smote his 

breast; 
Told all his follies, all his sins confessed; 
Made accusations of himself to Heaven, 
And owned to crimes too great to be forgiven, 



With the Little Folks. 87 

Which he had thought, although he had not 

done; 
Blackening his blackness; numbering one by 

one 
Unheard-of villainies without a name, 
As if he gloried in inventing shame, 
Or thought to win the grace of Heaven by lies. 
And gain a saintship in a fiend's disguise. 

Long in these woods he dwelt — a wretched 

man, 
Shut from all fellowship, self-placed in ban ; 
Laden with ceaseless prayer and boastful vows, 
Which day and night he breathed beneath the 

boughs, 
"But sore distressed he was, and wretched quite, 
For every evening with the waning light 
A choir of nightingales, the brakes among, 
Deluged the woods with overflow of- song. 
"Unholy birds," he said, "your throats be 

riven, 
You mar my prayers, and take my thoughts 

from Heaven." 

But still the song, magnificent and loud, 
Poured from the trees like rain from thunder- 
cloud ; 



88 Sunday Evening Talks 

Now to his vexed and melancholy ear 
Sounding like bridal music, pealing clear; 
Anon it deepened on his throbbing brain 
To full triumphal march or battle strain; 
Then seemed to vary to a choral hymn, 
Or De Profundis from cathedral dim, 
Te Deum, or " Hosanna to the Lord," 
Chanted by deep-voiced priests in full accord. 

He shut his ears, he stamped upon the sod: 
"Be ye accursed, ye take my thoughts from God ! 
And thou, beloved saint to whom I bend, 
Lamp of my life, my guardian and friend, 
Make intercession for me, sweet Saint John, 
And hear the anguish of thy suffering son. 
May nevermore within this woods be heard 
The song of morning or of evening bird, 
May nevermore their harmonies awake 
Within the precincts of this lonely brake, 
For I am weary, old, and full of woe, 
And their songs vex me. This one boon bestow, 
That I may pray, and give my thoughts to thee, 
Without distraction of their melody; 
And that within these bowers my groans and 

sighs 
And ceaseless prayers be all the sounds that rise. 



With the Little Folks, 89 

Let God alone possess me, last and first; 
And, for his sake, be all these birds accursed." 

This having said, he started where he stood, 
And saw a stranger walking in the wood; 
A purple glory, pale as amethyst, 
Clad him all o'er. He knew the Evangelist; 
And kneeling on the earth with reverence meet, 
He kissed his garment's hem and clasped his feet. 

"Rise," said the saint, "and know, "unhappy 

king, 
That true religion hates no living thing; 
It loves the sunlight, loves the face of man, 
And takes all virtuous pleasure that it can; 
Shares in each harmless joy that nature gives, 
Bestows its sympathy on all that lives, 
Sings with the bird, rejoices with the bee, 
And, wise as manhood, sports with infancy. 
Let not the nightingales disturb thy prayers, 
But make thy thanksgiving as pure Us theirs; 
So shall it mount on wings of love to heaven, 
And thou, forgiving, be thyself forgiven." 

The calm voice cease/a; King Edward dared 

not look, 
But bent to e^rth, and blushed at the rebuke; 



90 



Sunday Evening Talks 



And though he closed his eyes and hid his face. 
He knew the saint had vanished from the place. 
And when he rose, ever the wild woods rang 
With the sweet song the birds of evening sang. 
No more he cursed them: loitering on his way. 
He listened pleased, and blessed them for their 

lays 
And on the morrow quitted Havering, 
To mix with men. and be again a king, 
And fasting, moaning, scorning, praying less, 
Increased in virtue and in happiness. 





With the Little Folks. 91 



THE WEATHER-COCK. 

MM. ATS ! caps ! hoods ! bonnets ! 
- head-gear of some kind ! We are 
all going to take a ride. Straw- 
berry-festival for us at Farmer 
Sealberry's. This is the way he pays 
Uncle John and family for marrying 
him to his new wife. Yes, bring little 
Carrie and all. That's right! All 
aboard ! Now let our Jehu drive ahead. 

Here ! Let us all rest in the shade 
of these old trees. The clouds are all 
gone. All the land is happy under the 
blissful reign of summer. Every thing 
seems in holiday dress. 

The different forms of nature wear 
One universal garb of love. 

Yonder you can see the town, and the 



92 Sunday Evening Talks 

church-steeple, on which is a weather- 
cock to show the direction of the wind. 
You have often gone into that church to 
hear preaching on Sunday. But by 
your leave we will have the sermon 
outside this time, on Saturday, and 
this in lieu of the Sunday evening talk 
to-morrow, as I shall then be from 
home. 

The text shall be that weather-cock : 
you can ail remember where the text 
is this time. Much depends on know- 
ing where the text is and what it 
teaches. 

There ! Did you see the vane change 
and move at least half-way round by the 
force of the wind ? It is nearly always 
changing, as fickle as a politician. It 
may change to every point of the com- 
pass in twenty-four hours. A man who 
is always changing to suit every "wind 
of doctrine," is like that fickle weather- 



"With the Little Folks. 93 

cock. Having no principles for his own 
guidance, he follows any demagogue 
who may proffer his leadership. He 
wavers with the popular breeze. You 
will know where to find him, should the 
crowd cry, "Hosanna!" and you will 
know his whereabouts when the popu- 
lace cry out, " Crucify him !" There he 
is with the mob leading their garlanded 
cattle to do sacrifice to Paul as their god 
" Mercury;" and there he is again with 
a tumultuous throng stoning the same 
Paul and dragging him out of the city as 
a lynched convict! Again, you see him 
ready to worship Paul, upon whom the 
venomous viper tries his fangs : yet, 
but a short time before, you might have 
heard him say that, though Paul had 
escaped the violence of the waves, he 
was unfit to live. Thus he is ever veer- 
ing, and never continues long in the 
same opinion. The rabble is an aggre- 



94 Sunday Evening Talks 

gate of such despicable characters. How 
foolish for a sailor to steer by a weather- 
cock upon the main-mast instead of 
directing his course by the compass or 
polar star ! 

Whatever may be the changing opin- 
ions of the unreasoning throng, see to it 
that you are governed by principle, by 
the teachings of truth. Enoch thus 
walked with God three hundred years, 
and Noah rode in triumph away from 
his neighbors. 

Numbers are no mark, 

That men will right be found; 

For few were saved in Noah's ark, 
But many millions drowned. 

And thus it has ever been all along 
the historical ages : 

Wisdom shows a narrow path, 
With here and there a traveler. 

It is enough for us if we can do right 



With the Little Folks. 95 

in the sight of God. In trying to do 
this, Ave may naturally expect that the 
multitude will take sides against us. 
" The world will love its own/' and " the 
world lieth in wickedness." " Blessed 
are ye when men shall revile you, 
and persecute you, and shall say all 
manner of evil against you falsely for 
my sake; for so persecuted they the 
prophets which were before you." 
Jesus said such characters were 
"blessed," or happy; and he knew 
what he said, and he said what he 
meant. 

Notice that he said, " speak evil of 
you falsely." Some forget this part of 
the declaration. Said a man one day, 
"I am persecuted; they speak evil of 
me; it is my glory: you can always 
know the good apple-trees by the clubs 
and sticks lodged in the branches!" 
But a youthful wag retorted, "Some- 



96 Sunday Evening Talks 

times the clubs show where there is a 
hornet's nest!" 

Still, there have ever been sufferers 
for righteousness' sake, from the days 
of Abel down to this year of grace. All 
such shall have their reward. If oppo- 
sition come upon you because you are 
right, then be firm as the anvil under 
the strokes of the hammer. 

Rest assured that nothing great or 
good can be accomplished without a 
fixed resolve. With this you may be 
enrolled with the Franklins, the Wash- 
ingtons, the Wesleys, the JNewtons, the 
Luthers, the Pauls, the Elijahs — names 
that glow along the vault of time, like 
stars in the firmament of heaven. Not 
only so, but they that are counted faith- 
ful " shall shine as the sun, in the king- 
dom of our Father." 

But here come our friends that went 



With the Little Folks. 



97 



into the town. All aboard! "We are 
homewarcl-bound." Still the sun is set- 
ting, and it will be night against we get 
there. Well, this is Saturday, but it is 
almost as good as Sunday. 
7 




98 Sunday Evening Talks 



ABOUT PETS. 



WELL, Old Tabby comes in with 
you to-night. She is welcome, 
^w*~ for without her help in keeping 
house, the mice would give us a 
deal of trouble. To tell the truth, I am 
fond of pets, if they be of the right kind. 
" Pet dogs, uncle?" 
I am not partial to dogs, but your 
Aunt Lizzie is ; she wants a big, strong 
watch-dog ; in this she differs from most 
ladies who prefer diminutive poodles. 
The hunters are partial to hounds. So 
you see tastes differ here as elsewhere. 
Were I an Indian or a frontiersman, I 
should want dogs to help keep off the 
wild beasts. 

" Then you prefer cats, uncle?" 
Yes, as between dogs and cats, I take 



With the Little Folks. 99 

the latter. She has such a nice coat of 
fur, so soft and clean ; her footstep is as 
noiseless as the falling of a feather ; and 
then she does us such a service against 
the rats and mice. 

"What about her caterwauling at 
nights?" 

Well, that makes somewhat against 
her, of course. The charming nursery 
story of "Whittington and his Cat" 
would have had a different turn had 
his cat squalled when introduced to the 
king and queen. 

The king at his drawer, 
A-counting out his money; 

The queen at her dresser, 
A-eating bread and honey. 

In that case, little Whittington would 
not have made such a bargain, and 
would hardly have become " thrice 
Mayor of London's mighty Town." 
Poor Selkirk, however, would have 



100 Sunday Evexixg Talks 

given "poor puss a corner," squall or 
no squall, as the rats were wont to nib- 
ble his feet while trying to get a nap. 
There are better pets, however, than 
pretty pussy. 

'•Plants and flowers?" 

Very pretty, indeed, and refining, too, 
in their influence upon a family as well 
as upon the individual heart. They 
helped make Eden so beautiful and 
sweet. I hope you will all cultivate 
flowers : 

Flowers the poetry of earth, 
As the stars are of heaven. 

But there are even prettier pets than 
the brilliant flowers. 

" Birds, uncle; you mean the pretty 
birds that flit about and sing so sweetly." 

The dearest " birdies" in the world. 
More symmetrical than the dove ; more 
talkative than the parrot; more imita- 
tive than the mocking-bird ; more tune- 



With the Little Folks. 101 

ful than the nightingale ; " of more value 
than many sparrows " — pets that please 
the angels — just such as I have around 
me to-night ! Bless me ! How can men 
and women pet their hounds, and cats, 
and poodles, and let little children go 
to ruin all around them ! 

You have heard of the noble Roman 
matron who, while other shallow women 
were parading their jewelry, turned 
with animation to her children, saying, 
" These are my jewels!" Let others 
boast of their pet bears, dogs, and such 
like; for one, give me the children. 
Accidents, war, disease, shipwreck, and 
other causes make many orphans. These 
we always may find scattered about. 
Would it not be better to care for them 
than for dogs ? 

Once a king's daughter found a weep- 
ing babe exposed beside a great river. 
She called a girl playing in sight, and 



102 Sunday Evening Talks 

bade her find a nurse. To the nurse 
she said: " Take this child away, and 
nurse it for me, and I will give thee thy 
wages." That helpless infant grew to 
be a great man — by many thought to 
be, taking him all in all, the greatest 
man the world has ever seen ; I mean 
" good old Moses." Would that all the 
exposed babes of our land were cared 
for! 

The old apostles had " power to cast 
out devils, and do many wonderful 
works." Had I the power to cast out 
dogs, I would make room for needy chil- 
dren. Fine as " poor pussy" is, she has 
been accused by some of slipping softly 
to the cradle of the sleeping babe and 
stealing away its breath! I do not 
charge her with this kind of murder; 
but has she not often stolen the place a 
poor child ought to have? 

Just the other day, I got off the train 



With the Little Folks. 103 

at a pleasant town, and was taken to see 
some esteemed friends : the gentleman, 
a worthy son of Old Virginia ; the lady, 
a noble daughter of Canada. While we 
were talking, in stalked " Tom," as self- 
important an imp as you could find any- 
where. He bounded upon the gentle- 
man's knee, to be stroked and caressed. 
It needed " no ghost from Denmark" to 
tell me that there was no pet baby in 
that house! Thousands of cats have 
thus wormed themselves into the favor 
of those who might have adopted pretty, 
sensible, promising children. 

If pets we must have — and I suppose 
we must — let us have the best pets in 
the world. Like Jesus, let us take them 
up in our arms, put our hands upon 
them, and bless them. In after years 
they will rise up and call us blessed. 

Here is the way a poet has put the 
case: 



104 Sunday Evening Talks 

A pleasant day in summer-time, 

I wandered by the sea, 
And met a little boy 

Who spoke thus earnestly: 

" I'm starving, sir; my father died 
A long, long while ago; 
And since, my mother's life has been 
A painful scene of woe. 
" We have no bread, and know not where 
A morsel to obtain,; 
If you 'd have pity, in the end 
I know 'twould be your gain." 

And then the little fellow wept 

As if his heart would break. 
A dollar and some little change 

I made the orphan take. 

Tears passed — misfortune's tide had swept 

All I possessed away; 
And I was sick — a stranger came 

And blessed me night and day. 
" Dear sir," I said, "how kind you are 

To one you do not know!" 
With tears he answered, " When a child 

You blessed me in my woe." 



With the Little Folks. 



105 



And then I saw it was the lad 
I met beside the sea: 

The charity I then bestowed 
Returned tenfold to me. 

Good-night, my pets ! 




106 Sunday Evening Talks 



SUNSET THOUGHTS. 




'Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore. 
And coming events cast their shadows before. 

— Campbell. 



KE of England's best poets 
thus sang. In an obscure county- 
paper I found the gem I wish to 
read you to-night. With what 
exultation the aged pilgrim sings under 
the sunset shadows of his earthly career! 
How dark his prospect would have been, 
but for the hopes of the gospel ! 

Jerusalem the Golden! to thee a song I 

sing, 
Thou everlasting city, thou city of my 

King; 
Thy lofty towers, thy golden streets, reflected 

in thy streams, 
Come down to me in visions and bless me in 

my dreams. 



With the Little Folks. 107 

I see thy golden hill-tops all bathed in glory 
bright ; 

No sun is there, nor queenly moon, for Jesus is 
the light. 

I see thy peaceful, flowery plains, where angels 
wander free, 

And tune the harp and lift the song to all eter- 
nity. 

I see the blood-washed millions around the 
Mercy-seat, 

Their fathers and their mothers and their little 
ones to greet; 

And there the Countenance Divine, all radiant 
from above, 

Sheds on them all immortal life and everlast- 
ing love. 

Jerusalem the Glorious! thou city of my 
God, 

I see the priests and martyrs who this vale of 
sorrow trod; 

I hear them sweep their golden harps that 
make all heaven ring — 

Salvation to my loving God! to Christ my lov- 
ing King! 



108 Sunday Evening Talks 

In evil days on earth they toiled and Marah's 

waters drank; 
Once the cross of shame they bore, sometimes 

beneath it sank; 
Once, foot-sore and weary, the narrow path 

they trod, 
The path that led them safely homeward, up to 

their Father, God. 

Thy blessed ones are free from all sorrow, pain, 

and fear — 
A Father's loving, gentle smile dries away the 

tear: 
From all bitter pangs of earthly grief forever 

they are free : 
O Jerusalem the Peaceful ! when shall I rest in 

thee? 

When shall I leave this earth, with all its cares 
and ills? 

"When shall I fly on soaring wings to thine 
eternal hills? 

When shall I with kindred by thy crystal 
streamlets stroll, 

With the friends of long ago — while the bliss- 
ful ages roll? 



With the Little Folks. 109 

Yes, even now, with peering gaze, on anxious 

wings they wait 
My coming through the gloomy night up to the 

open gate ! 
Would they ever have me weep, or approve my 

scalding tears? 
Would they sooner brush me with their wings, 

to drive away my fears? 

Yes! In twilight's holy hour I've heard the 

gentle strains 
Of heavenly music floating down from the 

celestial plains: 
I've heard them sing of triunrph, of victory 

over sin — 
They 've cheered me with their music and made 

me smile again! 

'Twas not imagination, nor Philomela's song, 
For I've felt the fan of angels' wings, who said, 

"It won't be long!" 
Jerusalem the Beautiful! thy walls in splendor 

shine, 
All precious stones and lovely gems their worth 

in thee combine, 



110 



Sunday Evening Talks 



Thy shining streams through lovely fields in 

peaceful cadence flow, 
Thy mansions well prepared and fair in light 

eternal glow. 
I yet shall wander there, each street, and field, 

and dell, 
And lead the gentle hand of her I loved on 

earth so well, 
Meet all the faithful friends, and there we'll 

tell the story 
Of Him who bore the cross and led us on to 

bliss and glory. 

But none can sing thus save /those 
who have tasted of the stream that 
makes glad the city of God. 




With the Little Folks. Ill 



THE LOST BOY. 




LEASE tell us another story!" 
Yes, certainly; but excuse my 
seeming* neglect. The truth is, 
I was so absorbed in reading the 
account of the railway disaster, that I 
forgot my promise. 

But to begin : you must keep in mind 
the fact that I spent several years of 
my life as a traveling preacher. Some 
of the circuits were large and mountain- 
ous. One was extensive, lying on both 
sides of a great mountain over which I 
had to pass every four weeks. Scarcely 
a day passed that did not find me in the 
saddle, and not a round on the circuit 
that did not find me out of the saddle, 
leading my trusty horse up or down 
some unsafe, rocky path. But, being 



& 



112 Sunday Evening Talks 

young and actiye, I cared little for this ; 
indeed, I rather gloried in seeing the 
works of God in the mountains — the 
leaping waterfalls, the rugged cliffs, the 
giant trees, the extensive prospects, the 
varied shrubbery, the many - colored 
flowers, and the winged inhabitants of 
the wilderness. From the lofty sum- 
mits one could look out over wide- 
spread valleys, and see other mountains 
looming up beyond. Sublime Nature 
does her work in her own sublime way. 
Once I saw a great whirlwind sweep 
along the mountain side. The dav was 
clear. Ten thousand leaves, upborne 
by the ascending current, whirled about 
in the sky, like birds holding a holiday. 
At another time a heavy storm over- 
took me leading my horse along a nar- 
row path that threaded the side of the 
mountain. A falling limb, or loosened 
stone, or unexpected turn of the blast, 



With the Little Folks. 113 

would have hurled man and beast deep 
down the declivity to unseen depths 
below. The cloudy mist and darkness 
made it unsafe to proceed. Holding to 
a bush, I held the bridle of my horse 
and was baptized, whether by the apos- 
tolic mode or not, does not matter here. 
Once I had to cross this mountain 
through a deep snow. Every shrub and 
tree was ready to bend beneath its 
fleecy burden. Often would I have to 
shake the snow from the bent saplings 
ere I could proceed. Of course there 
were no flowers to cheer the way; no 
song of bird to break the oppressive 
stillness of the solitude. Squirrels, 
pheasants, and partridges had found 
some covert retreat. Xo living thing 
was there in sight, save now and then, 
at long intervals, a snowbird flitted by 
on anxious wing. Heavy, dull clouds 
shut out the sun and covered all the 
8 



114 Sunday Evening Talks 

sky. Progress was slow and difficult. 
Night began to settle down, and it was 
plain I could not reach the point in- 
tended. The last steep path had been 
descended. Again I was in the saddle, 
and, spurring my jaded horse along, I 
began to feel anxious as to where I 
should spend the night. Just then the 
untimely shrill notes of a chanticleer 
told of some settlement off to my right. 
Presently I saw a path beaten down by 
recent travel, leading in the desired di- 
rection. Soon I came upon a double 
cabin. Rising up, I gave a loud halloo! 
An old man came out: his look, and 
manner, and tone betokened honesty 
and benevolence. His locks and beard 
were long and gray; his eyes dark and 
intellectual ; his person tall and erect. 
He wore a broad-brimmed woolen hat, 
and a suit of blue home-made jeans. He 
seemed to look me through, and said: 



With the Little Polks. 115 

"The preacher, I suppose?" 
But before I could answer, he added : 
" Come in and stay all night." 
The very thing, above all others, then 
in my plan of operations. 

A boy was called and directed to put 
away my horse. I was conducted into 
the cabin and introduced by one short 
sentence : 

" Old woman, our preacher has come 
to stay all night." 

Out he went for wood to replenish 
the fire. The good lady was glad to see 
me, telling me she had not had a 
preacher under her roof for sometime ; 
that her house was so far off the road, 
the preachers seldom called to see her. 

Every thing about the cabin was neat 
as a new pin. A hickory fire was soon 
roaring up the broad old-fashioned chim- 
ney. Such logs, several feet long, piled 
Pelion-and-Ossa style! How pleasant 



116 Sunday Evening Talks 

to the damp, cold stranger! As you 
have never been among these mountain 
people, I must despair of giving you 
any thing like a correct idea of their 
frank generosity. It, like their patriot- 
ism and devotion, resembles their rug- 
ged, grand, everlasting mountains. It 
would do you good to go among them. 
Better friendships you will never find 
anywhere — refreshing as their mountain 
breezes, and pure as the clear waters 
that flow from their fountains. 

Four persons — all that were to be 
found in some square miles — were soon 
seated around a savory supper spread 
in their kitchen-room — a ten by twelve 
cabin. The meal was discussed heartily, 
especially by the new-comer, whose taste 
for savory venison was rather keen. 

After supper, conversation ran on 
freely till a late hour. Among other 
things, one circumstance related by the 



With the Little Folks. 117 

old gentleman deserves mention. Said 
he: 

" One evening I was fishing away 
down the creek by Panther Bluff — it 
was in April, I remember the dogwood 
was in bloom — when a boy came after 
me, telling me that my brother's boy, 
Calvin, was missing, and nobody had 
seen him since the others went out in 
the morning to plant corn ; the father 
thinking he was at the house, and the 
mother thinking he had gone with his 
father to the field, he was not missed 
till dinner ; that nobody could find him. 
I stopped fishing and came on home. 
My wife had her bonnet on ready to 
start. When we got to brother's, it was 
nearly night. They were still blowing 
the horn, long and loud, to let the neigh- 
bors know something was wrong, and to 
enable Calvin to find his way back home. 
Soon some one came in, saying he had 



118 Sunday Evening Talks 

seen panther tracks at the head of the 
hollow. I started for the place, having 
my gun and dog along — both as true as 
steel. Some thought the child had been 
killed by the panther. My dog was 
soon on the track. But I soon saw that 
that panther had not killed the child. 
Had it done so, it would have stayed by 
the body; but his course was straight 
toward the big mountain. So I sounded 
my horn to call back the dog. Then I 
went back to the house. 

" By this time a dozen men had gath- 
ered. It was dark. We got pine torches, 
and started out to hunt for Calvin. Who- 
ever found him was to give a signal by 
shooting off his gun and giving three 
long even blasts with his horn. But we 
hunted everywhere, all night, in vain. 

" About ten men came in next morn- 
ing, and we all hunted for miles around. 
One party inspected the banks of the 



With the Little Folks. 119 

creek, thinking lie might have been 
drowned, but nowhere in the mud — 
the creek had swollen a few r days be- 
fore — nowhere could his little tracks be 
found. 

"We all met at the house after sun- 
down, and would have given up the 
search had not the child's mother 
seemed so distressed. She begged us 
to continue, and we hunted all that 
night, but found no boy, nor any sign 
of hifti. 

"At breakfast next morning, the 
mother noticed the dog did not eat the 
bread she gave him, but started off as 
dogs do when they are going to bury a 
bone. Then she remembered that the 
dog did the same thing the evening be- 
fore. She resolved to see what he did 
with the bread. On he went, and on 
she followed, as fast as she could. About 
a mile from the farm she saw the clog 



120 Sunday Evening Talks 

leap upon a big log and then disappear. 
Soon she was standing on the log, but 
she saw no dog. Bending over to look 
under the log, at the lower side, she saw 
the dog and a little hand patting his 
neck ! She looked over a little farther, 
and saw the other hand holding the 
bread! She was soon down with the 
dog and child ; but what was her amaze- 
ment! The child shrank back, and 
seemed wild ! She gathered him to her 
bosom, and made for home. Some one 
fired oif a gun and blew the horn. 
Everybody came running in. I never 
before saw so many glad people in one 
day. But the mother was the gladdest 
of us all. She thanked us as if she 
could not thank us enough. And the 
dog — a lucky dog was he ! He was fat 
afterward. He had fed Calvin in his 
place under the log, near a small rivulet 
of water. When brother died last year, 



With the Little Folks. 



121 



we adopted Calvin as our son, as we 
have no child of our own." 

After this story by the old man, we 
had prayers. Need I tell you that God 
was thanked for sending his Son to seek 
and to save that which was lost ? 




122 Sunday Evening Talks 



A CANDY STORY. 




*ELL, here is a treat of candy 
sent you by your Aunt Mary. 
I suppose there never was a 
child that did not like sweet 
things. There is a reason for this, the 
doctors tell us ; but let that go for the 
present. 

Once there was a brown or hazle-eyed, 
wee bit of a girl, named Yic. One day 
she ran out to the gate, as her papa was 
starting over to the railroad, the smiles 
playing over her rosy little face. Her 
object was to ask him to bring her some 
candy. She seemed to think of no re- 
fusal : she expected a favorable answer 
to her petition. What a lesson here on 
the sublime subject of prayer! And, 
then, " If we, being evil, know how to 



With the Little Folks. 123 

give good gifts unto our children, how 
much more will our Heavenly Father 
give good things to them that ask him ?" 
Little Vic knew her father's ear 
would not be sealed against her request. 
Had she not tried him before, and seen 
others try him ? The result proved her 
faith well-founded; for her papa re- 
turned with candy — several kinds and 
ever so much in quantity. But not 
wishing to have a sick child on his 
hands, he divided the parcel, a portion 
of which he handed his little daughter. 
How like our Heavenly Father in his 
dealings with us, giving us " day by 
day," as our interest demands! But 
little Vic seemed to think she ought to 
have it all at once; and failing to get 
all, she became very naughty; frown- 
ing, and pouting, and then crying, she 
threw what she had received down upon 
the ground. Her idea was, "All or 



124 Sunday Evening Talks 

none." Her papa picked up the parcel 
and walked away, leaving Vic to repent 
at leisure. How like the conduct of 
many sinners was lier behavior! Un- 
thinking and unthankful, they despise 
and reject the very things Infinite Wis- 
dom has procured to satisfy their wants. 
How often, too, they, like Esau, find no 
place for subsequent repentance ! 

There is something even in the best 
of men that prompts them to withhold 
farther favors from those who are lack- 
ing in gratitude, especially from those 
who have contemned and abused gifts 
previously bestowed. The ungrateful 
cannot be trusted. 

Poor little Vic should have acted 
otherwise than she did. Nor should 
Esau have slighted the privileges of his 
birthright, among which was the priest- 
hood of the household, the sale of which 
constituted him a "profane" person in 



With the Little Folks. 125 

the language of the Bible. Afterward 
there was no undoing the evil already 
done. Many share a similar fate. 

In conclusion, do any of my little 
friends contemn the good gifts of our 
Heavenly Father? Do they neglect the 
word of God, break the Sabbath, neglect 
the Church or Sunday-school, grieve the 
Holy Spirit, or wickedly use the breath 
by which they live ? 

How much better for Vic, had she 
shown a thankful disposition! And 
how much better for us all to appreciate 
and rightly use " every good and perfect 
gift that cometh down from the Father 
of lights !" 

But the hour has come for retirement ; 
hand us the Book, and we will have 
prayers before we part. 



126 Sunday Evening Talks 



SELF-RESPECT. 




OU all look so happy to-night, 
my little friends, I hope you 
have had a profitable day. It is 
possible to be very still all day 
Sunday, and yet not advance in knowl- 
edge and virtue. How about the Sun- 
day-school ? All there, and all had the 
lesson ? And did you all try to praise 
God by singing? 

I am glad to hear you say so. But 
how about the Church services after the 
school closed? Some children treat the 
preaching of the word with neglect ; I 
hope none of you did so to-day. 

A good report again. And how about 
your deportment — kind and respectful 
to everybody? 

" You tried to be." Well, I like that 



"With the Little Folks, 127 

answer first-rate — "tried to be." The 
poet, Dr. Young, has said : 

He that does the best his circumstance allows, 
Acts nobly: angels could no more. 

Thus acting, you will honor your parents 
and make friends for yourselves. "A 
good name is rather to he chosen than 
great riches, and loving favor rather 
than silver and gold." In acting aright 
you also honor your Creator, and main- 
tain your own self-respect. To this last 
thought — your self-respect — I wish to 
call special attention. A watch without 
a mainspring and a boy without self- 
respect are alike, in one thing — they are 
good for nothing! The other day I 
opened a New York paper, and was 
pleased with this paragraph : 

" If we had a hundred sons to educate, 
we would send them all to Old Virginia ; 
for the Virginians cultivate a high order 



128 Sunday Evening Talks 

of self-respect, without which young 
men seldom accomplish much in life." 

I said I was pleased with the para- 
graph, not that I think Old Virginia is 
the only place where the virtue in ques- 
tion is cultivated, but for the high esti- 
mate placed upon the virtue itself. 

The men who preserved their self- 
respect during the great American war 
— men who would not stoop to pilfer or 
oppress — men who scorned a mean act 
— these are the men that it will do to 
trust, " whether the} 7 wore the blue or 
the gray." Even an enemy has a re- 
gard for a foe who respects himself, as 
General Grant had for the lamented 
Lee. 

Aside from the direct judgments of 
the Almighty, no greater calamity can 
befall a young man than the loss of self- 
respect. In such a case, there remains 
no sure foundation on which to build. 



With the Little Folks. 129 

Like Samson shorn of his strength, they 
are doomed to grind in the mill of their 
enemies : vengeance they may take 
upon their tormentors, but, in accom- 
plishing this vengeance, they bring 
down ruin upon their own devoted 
heads. Woe unto him from whom self- 
respect has fled ! Upon his brow is the 
ominous legend, Xchabod — " the 'glory lias 
departed /" 

But for him who sedulously preserves 
his self-respect, there is always hope. 
Such may fall into adversity, but they 
may hope to rise again; and. as in the 
case of Job, their second estate may far 
excel their first. 

Let me beg you never to do a mean 
act — one that will lower or destrov vour 
self-respect. The respect of society is a 
great boon worthy of your constant ef- 
fort ; but your own self-respect is much 
more important. If necessary, part with 
9 



130 Sunday Evening Talks 

your property to maintain your honor 
before the law ; but part with an arm, 
part with your life, sooner than forfeit 
your self-respect. 

What security this shield affords to 
true manhood! What protection to 
true integrity ! What safety to official 
duty ! What an incentive to right ac- 
tion, in every relation of life! Little 
Washington had self-respect, and, like 
his God, he could not tell a lie ! 

The more you think on this subject 
the more you will find to strengthen 
noble resolve and godlike integrity. 
Let none excel you in true moral hero- 
ism. 

But here we pause at present. 



With the Little Folks. 131 



KILLED BY A HORXET. 



%jER/ LEASE tell you the story about 
((0k that little girl that was killed by 
a hornet?" To be sure of hear- 
ing it, you have gathered in your 
little circle. A man that would not talk 
to such an audience must have a cold 
heart indeed. 

The day had come — the day for the ' i ex- 
amination" in Miss Davidson's school. 
The chapel was thronged — the school 
children, their parents and friends, and 
the usual crowd of interested spectators. 
Class after class came upon the platform 
and passed through an examination. 
They were favored children, and it was 
plain that they had been thoroughly 
taught. Parents, scholars, teachers, 
visitors — all were pleased. Then came 



132 Sunday Evening Talks 

the compositions and little speeches — a 
real success, "A feast of reason and flow 
of soul." All was over but one thing : 
a prize was to be awarded to the one 
that had, upon the whole, excelled. 

I pity the members of committees ap- 
pointed to make such decisions. Such 
a conflict of claims, such a diversity of 
opinions, so many points to decide ! But 
the committee-men in this instance reso- 
lutely undertook the difficult task to 
them assigned. 

While the committee was out for con- 
sultation the crowd held " holiday " 
within. How happy every one seemed ! 
How full of pleasantries ! To be under- 
stood, such an occasion must first be 
enjoyed. 

The committee soon returned, walk- 
ing up the aisle and resuming their 
places. In a moment all was hushed 
expectation— so still, you might have 



With the Little Folks. 133 

heard a pin drop. Said Miss Davidson : 
" Gentlemen, we shall be pleased to hear 
your report." The chairman rose and 
said: "All have done well — many, very 
well indeed ; but we award the prize to 
Miss Susan Hortenstine." 

Susan was ail blushes and smiles. A 
few aspirants looked disappointed ; but 
a murmur of approbation ran through 
the assembly. A moment more : we 
were dismissed — never all to meet again. 

The children scattered for their vaca- 
tion. Susan left her aunt's, with whom 
she had been boarding, and went home 
to her father's. My appointments called 
me four weeks away. 

Coming back into the school com- 
munity, I found the people sad. The 
lovely Susan Hortenstine, adorned with 
charms and full of hope, had been cut 
down like a flower. A hornet, in chas- 
ing a fly, had chanced to light upon her 



134 Sunday Evening Talks 

rosy cheek, and had inserted its dreadful 
sting ! The poison thus infused spread 
through her whole nervous system. Her 
sufferings were great. In a few days it 
was seen that her bright young life must 
close. Friends thronged around ; kind- 
ness, sorrow, sympathy, filled every 
heart. Thanks to her pious aunt and 
to the Sunday-school, she had been led 
to the mercy-seat; and bright as her 
prospects had been for this world, she 
cheerfullv surrendered them all for the 
brighter prospects of the world to come. 
She asked her friends who were present, 
and sent word to many who were absent, 
" to meet her in heaven." 

One agony she endured, even greater 
than her physical sufferings : her father, 
though an honored citizen, was not a 
Christian — was " without God and with- 
out hope in the world." He had ever 
been ready to do any thing for her com- 



With the Little Folks. 135 

fort — was now anxiously waiting around 
her bed. Him she entreated to forsake 
his sins and to seek the Saviour of men. 
Always ready to hear her request before, 
now he was slow. Some of his sins were 
open and brought him money. She con- 
tinued to plead. Ever true to his 
promises, he was slow to promise now; 
but lie ivas counting the cost. The scale 
was poised. Friends wept and prayed. 
The daughter still pleaded with the gray- 
haired father, " my dearest father, this 
one time tell me yes ! it is my last request" 

He trembled as a leaf: tears ran 
down his face, as he sobbed, u O yes, 
Susan, your Jesus shall be mine!' 5 

She asked no more. An expression 
of joy spread over her features, like the 
auroral light of the morning. No other 
thought troubled her now ; and not long 
after this she fell asleep. Her spirit 
was with the angels. 



136 Sunday Evening Talks 



THE RIGHT PLACE. 



«*§fe*. 



i^ 



jfirfif ERE is a new book. Listen while 
I read a line or two : 

^ "Order is Heaven's first law; 
and the second is like unto it : 
every tiling serves an end. These are the 
two mites, even all she hath, which 
Science throws into the treasury of the 
Lord, while Eternal Wisdom looks on 
and commends the deed." 

That will do for educated people : for 
you, when you get older and wiser. 
Here is a maxim that is better suited to 
the common people and the little folks : 

"A place for every thing, and every 
thing in its place;" a maxim worthy to 
be written in letters of gold, and to be 
had in everlasting remembrance by the 
tidy housekeeper, the thrifty farmer, the 



With the Little Folks. 137 

busy mechanic, the successful merchant, 
or the good anybody else. 

Pigs in the parlor ! The calf in the 
kitchen! Books in the smoke-house! 
Chickens in the bed-room! Did you 
ever think how unbecoming such things 
would be ? 

Suppose your eyes were in your big 
toes ! Your hands growing on the sides 
of your head ! Your ears in the place 
of your hands! How dreadful such 
an arrangement ! But Providence has 
wisely ordered otherwise; every mem- 
ber in its proper office. And sun, moon, 
planets ; spring, summer, autumn, win- 
ter ; morn, noon, eve, night — every 
thing in its proper order, proclaiming, 
" The hand that made us is Divine." 

Now much of your usefulness and 
happiness depends on your finding your 
proper place. God made you for a pur- 
pose, and you will never be happy or 



138 Sunday Evening Talks 

useful out of your divinely-appointed 
sphere. "A fish out of water!" You 
can well imagine the consequences : it 
suffers because it is not in its own ele- 
ment. How happily it swims at home ! 
how it flounders and dies abroad ! Nor 
would the birds fare any better were 
they to exchange places with the fishes, 
as death would soon find them there. 
As Nature has arranged affairs, it may 
well be questioned which are the hap- 
pier, the little fishes in the clear, pearly 
brook, or the bright, tuneful birds in the 
leafy trees. 

Here is a big word, but you may as 
well learn it now as at a future time — 
zo-o-log-ic-al. Let me hear you pro- 
nounce it. 

" Zoological?" That's it, exactly. 
Now you have the " pass-word," we will 
go on by saying that a zoological garden 
is where wild birds and beasts are kept 



With the Little Folks. 139 

for show and experiment. With this 
explanation, we w r ill read what Charles 
Beach once said : 

" Observe that great, brown bird in 
the zoological gardens, which sits so 
tame on its perch, and droops and 
slouches like a drowsy duck. That is 
the great and soaring eagle. Who 
would believe it, to look at him ? Yet 
all he wants is to be put in his right 
place instead of the wrong." 

Are you not sorry for the " king of 
birds?" Well did the dethroned and 
condemned King Charles of Great Brit- 
ain sigh before his execution, " There 
is nothing so much despised as a fallen 
king." 

Well, the eagle looks bad enough in 
his cage ; and what a ridiculous figure 
old mother duck would make to take 
the eagle's place on the lofty mountain 
crag, and try to soar and scream! 



140 Sunday Evening Talks 

"Every thing in its place," you see. 
Sometimes human eagles and clucks get 
strangely out of place. Find your 
proper place, if you want to be respected 
in society. Some bury their talents, and 
are dishonored as unprofitable servants. 
At other times, as the Bible says, " Pride 
goeth before destruction, and a haughty 
spirit before a fall." 

A position that may be every way 
right and proper at one time, may cease 
to be so under a change of circumstances. 
Says Paul: "When I was a child, I 
spake as a child, I understood as a child, 
I thought as a child ; but when I became 
a man, I put away childish things." Our 
offices, like our garments, should con- 
form to times and seasons. 

Some have an aptitude for one voca- 
tion, some for another. No amount of 
time and training can make some men 
musicians. Others have a genius for 



With the Little Folks. 141 

melody. " Poets are born, not made." 
Our gifts are different ; but we all have 
aptitudes for some calling or other. 

Consult nature ; consult your friends ; 
make trial of your powers ; then you 
need not greatly err. See that you do 
not bury your talent ; but fall into place, 
in your own appropriate sphere, what- 
ever it be ; for there, and there only, you 
can prosper, be honored, and be happy. 



tP^^T^b °^?/^ (T^\^7^ 






142 Sunday Evening Talks 



BYRON AND ST. JOHN. 



T would be hard to find two per- 




sons more unlike each other. 
Byron used his pen to gratify 
his ambition ; John wrote by di- 
rection of the Holy Spirit. Defiance 
glared in the former like lightning on 
the angry cloud ; love glowed in the lat- 
ter like the glories of the rainbow. 
Byron's brow and lip moved with scorn ; 
John's whole face was wreathed with 
smiles of love. Like a sirocco fall the 
sentiments of the earthly lord upon the 
heart of virtue ; like the dews of Her- 
mon upon the thirsty plants come the 
consolations of the fisherman upon the 
sorrowing soul of penitence. Byron 
said, " Nobody loves me but my sister." 
John was loving and beloved — "the be- 



With the Little Folks. 143 

loved disciple," The former was be- 
lieved to be bad ; the latter was known 
to be good. The one, in his " Mystery," 
gives revolting utterances as to the 
King of kings ; the other, in his " Reve- 
lation," repeats angelic choruses and the 
warm welcome of the Lamb of God. 
Byron's verses alternate from notes that 
angels might not excel, down to dire 
croaking that Satan might scorn to own ; 
John's prose flows on smooth as the 
numbers of the heavenly harpers harp- 
ing with their harps, singing of the 
honor and glory due to God. The bard 
loved to hate his country and his kind ; 
the apostle grieved and wept over the 
fall of his nation and the evils of his race. 

Byron sang : 

I had a dream that was not all a dream — 
a vision dark, drear, and dire. 

The bright sun was extinguished, and the 
stars — 



144 Sunday Evening Talks 

and he dreamed on, of "icy earth," and 
" moonless air," and "Darkness — she 
was the universe/' But John had a bet- 
ter vision: "A new heaven and a new 
earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness;" 
and instead of " Darkness— she was the 
universe," his prose ran: " There shall 
be no night there; and they need no 
candle, neither the light of the sun ; for 
the Lord God giveth them light, and 
they shall reign forever and ever." 

To the British lord light gave way to 
gloom ; to the Jewish exile there arose 
light in darkness. To the former the 
"pillar of cloud" brought boding night; 
to the latter it beamed eternal day ! 

In Byron's dream there was fire as 
well as darkness: 

Forests were set on fire ; but hour by hour 
They fell and faded; and the crackling trunks 
Extinguished with a crash — and all was black. 

In John's vision there was water as 






With the Little Folks. 145 

well as light: "And he showed me a 
pure river of the water of life, clear as 
crystal, proceeding out of the throne of 
God and of the Lamb; and on either 
side of the river was the tree of life, 
which bare twelve manner of fruits;" 
and "the Lord God giveth them light." 
Byron had glimpses of weeping and 

woe: 

Some lay down, 

And hid their eyes, and wept; and some did rest 
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and 

smiled; 
And others hurried to and fro and fed 
Their funeral piles with fuel, and looked up, 
"With mad disquietude on the dull sky, 
The pall of the past world! and then again, 
With curses, cast them down upon the dust, 
And gnashed their teeth and howled. 

But John saw a scene of joy and glad- 
ness: "And God shall wipe all tears 
from their eyes ; and there shall be no 
more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, 
10 



146 Sunday Evening Talks 

neither shall there be any more pain ; 
for the former things are passed away." 

Thus you see, my little friends, Byron 
and St. John are of different types of 
teachers. They have different views of 
God and his providence. The former 
promises you no happiness here or here- 
after ; the latter offers you the joys of 
salvation in this life and in that which 
is to come. 

May I serve you as Jesus did his sor- 
rowing mother at his crucifixion? He 
turned her over to John, the beloved 
disciple — perhaps the best man the 
world has ever known. You can find 
no more loving teacher than John the 
Evangelist, whom Jesus loved. 



With the Little Folks. 147 



CRAIGHEAD CAVERN. 




'RYAXT lias said, " The groves 
were God's first temples." Per- 
haps he is correct ; but methinks 
it was nice to worship under the 
great dome of night with all the astral 
lights ablaze, or when dark clouds were 
overhead, and 

Silence had a tongue, 
A tongue that ever says, " Man, think of God." 

But be that as it may, '• God is in his 
temple" — the universe — and wherever 
man rests or roams, there may he wor- 
ship Him whose worship must be "in 
spirit and in truth." 

It struck your Uncle John as a novel 
but proper thing, when a son of the re- 
nowned James Axley suggested an ap- 



148 Sunday Evening Talks 

pointment for preaching in the great 
Craighead Cavern. A kind of " dedica- 
tion " of a temple not made with hands 
was something new; and so the appoint- 
ment was allowed to go abroad. 

The bright Sunday morning came. 
Many men and boys, and some women, 
and even children, gathered on the 
mountain side near the cave. Most of 
these had come afoot, as the precipitous 
path was too unsafe for any other than 
a fearless and sure-footed horse. 

This cavern had been discovered by a 
hunter some thirty years before; and 
here he was, that lovely day, to act as 
pilot — a genial " old man of the mount- 
ain." He had kindled a fire made of 
dead limbs torn by storms from the 
giant oaks that stood as sentinels about 
the place : he wished the people to have 
the means to light their torches and can- 
dles before entering the gloomy recesses 



With the Little Folks. 149 

of the cavern in which the meeting was 
to be held. 

The entrance was steep and narrow, 
hedged in by walls of solid rock, so that 
we had to move " Indian file," or one 
after another. Soon the passage widens 
and the great cavern is reached. High 
overhead is solid stone ; on either hand 
openings into other chambers; before 
us impenetrable gloom ! 

About half a mile underground a spot 
was selected for the service. A stone 
stand served the preacher ; around him 
stood the congregation. A hundred 
torches blazed; but still all around 
looked dark and cheerless. Far above 
might be faintly seen gray stalactites 
suspended from the roof of the cavern : 
" Only this, and nothing more." 

There was stillness — "the hush of 
night." A faint, fading echo of falling- 
water, made by a stream crossing the 



150 Sunday Evening Talks 

cave half a mile ahead, and falling into 
an unexplored abyss below : " Only this, 
and nothing more." 

The audience seemed oppressed by 
the gloom and hush of the place. They 
needed no one to remind them, " The 
Lord is in his holy temple ; let the peo- 
ple keep silence before him." They 
felt, " These are thy glorious works, 
Parent of good!" 

There was a sensible relief when one 
of the songs of Zion began to fill the 
solemn place. Cheerfully, cordially, all 
voices joined in the swelling strains, 
and echoes were heard in the arches 
and chambers of this underground tem- 
ple. Then followed the voice of prayer 
and the amens of the devout worshipers. 

Around the preacher stood the hear- 
ers holding their torches, as he read the 
text: "And others had trial of cruel 
niockings and scourgings, yea, more- 



With the Little Folks. 151 

over of bonds and imprisonment : they 
were stoned, they were sawn asunder, 
were tempted, were slain with the 
sword : they wandered about in sheep- 
skins and goat-skins ; being destitute, 
afflicted, tormented (of whom the world 
was not worthy) : they wandered in 
deserts, and in mountains, and in dens 
and caves of the earth" 

Then followed an account of God's 
people in times of persecution, and of 
their fidelity under trials — things that 
should serve as our examples and afford 
us admonition. 

The sermon over, again there arose 
the voice of praise, the people singing 
with the spirit and with the understand- 
ing also, " How firm a foundation," etc. 
There, under a mountain, half a mile 
from the light of day, they "made mel- 
ody in their hearts unto the Lord " — an 
acceptable service unto the Father of 



152 



Sunday Evening Talks 



spirits, though not as artistic a perform- 
ance as might have been hired in the 
city of Boston or New York. At any 
rate, the singing in the cavern was 
unique, and it lingers in the chambers 
of memory until the present day. 

How different the service in that deep, 
dark, damp cavern, lighted dimly with 
smoking torches, and the grand assem- 
bly of all ages, in the glory-lighted tem- 
ple not made with hands, eternal in the 
heavens ! 




With the Little Folks. 153 



DESCRIPTION OF CHRIST. 



WISH to present you to-night, 




my little friends, a literary gem 
that has pleased thousands of 
our race, both old and young. 
It is truly beautiful — a portrait of our 
Saviour, as it was found in an ancient 
manuscript, said to have been sent by 
Publius Lentulus, Governor of Judea, 
to the Roman Senate. Dr. Summers 
says: "It is no more genuine than the 
pretended letter of Jesus Christ to King 
Abgarus." The late Dean Milman, in 
his " History of Christianity," says : "I 
must not omit the description of the 
person of our Saviour in the spurious 
epistle of Lentulus to the Roman Sen- 
ate, since it is referred to constantly by 
writers on early Christian art. But 



154 Sunday Evening Talks 

what proof is there of the existence of 
this epistle previous to the great era of 
Christian painting ?■" Notwithstanding 
all these doubts as to the authenticity 
of the description, it is still admirable 
for the fine lines and coloring of the 
picture, by whomsoever drawn. Its 
" fidelity to nature " is, perhaps, the 
cause of its wide-spread popularity. But 
here is the picture : 

" There lives at this time in Judea a 
man of singular character, whose name 
is Jesus Christ. The barbarians esteem 
him as a prophet; but his followers 
adore him as the immortal offspring of 
the immortal God. He is endowed with 
such unparalleled virtues as to call back 
the dead from their graves, and to heal 
every kind of disease with a word or 
touch. His person is tall and elegantly 
shaped — his aspect . amiable, reverent. 
His hair flows in those beautiful shades 



With the Little Folks. 155 

which no united colors can match, fall- 
ing into graceful curls below his ears, 
agreeably couching on his shoulders, 
and parting on the crown of his head, 
like the head-dress of the sect of the 
JNazarites. His forehead is smooth and 
large ; his nose and mouth are formed 
with exquisite symmetry ; his beard is 
thick, and suited to the hair of his head, 
reaching a little below his chin, and 
parting in the middle like a fork ; his 
eyes are bright, clear, and serene. He 
rebukes with majesty, counsels with 
mildness, and invites with the most 
tender and persuasive language — his 
whole address, whether in word or deed, 
being elegant, grave, and strictly char- 
acteristic of so great a being. No one 
has seen him laugh, but the whole world 
behold him weep frequently; and so 
persuasive are his tears, that the multi- 
tude cannot withhold theirs from joining 



156 Sunday Evening Talks 

in sympathy with him. He is moder- 
ate, temperate, and wise. In short, 
whatever this phenomenon may turn 
out in the end, he seems at present a 
man of excellent beauty and divine per- 
fection, every way surpassing the chil- 
dren of men." 

Such is the picture. All history, 
sacred and profane, shows that his was 
a remarkable presence. " He spake as 
never man spake." His enemies dared 
not take him openly, for "they feared 
the people." That such a man should 
have had " his judgment taken away" — 
been condemned without the spirit or 
the letter of the law — is the w r onder of 
the ages, 



With the Little Folks. 157 



A LITTLE FAIRY QTJEEX. 




? HAXKS for your singing — 
thanks to every one of von! 
Your music to me was very 
sweet. There is too little of 
song in our families. We shall never 
know the full power of song till we hear 
the music of heaven. But it sometimes 
revives us much on earth. 

Once I felt unusual sadness. I had 
been looking over my past life: my 
father impoverished by a fire while I 
was a boy ; the expenses of my educa- 
tion taking the income of my first three 
vears in the ministry ; then worse than 
bankruptcy — a fearful debt — -after the 
war ; the effort to pay every obligation, 
leading me to take a transfer to another 
Conference ; the unexpected circum- 



158 Sunday Evening Talks 

stances that kept my family from join- 
ing me in my new field of toil. I 
thought, too, of the two darling children 
that had died. I felt myself bereft of 
friends and fortune, a stranger in a 
strange land. It was impossible to re- 
strain my tears ; there I wept, five hun- 
dred miles from wife and little ones, at 
home. 

Rousing myself and washing my face, 
I passed into the street to see a sick 
member of my flock. On the way I met 
Dr. Roberts, a member of my charge, 
who pressed me to call and see his fam- 
ily ; and taking me by the arm, he led 
me back into his house. 

His little daughter was at the piano. 
She rose and gave me her pale, feeble 
hand. But at her father's request she 
resumed her place, and gave us a piece 
or two of music. It was good enough, 
but by no means remarkable, till her 



With the Little Folks. 159 

father asked her to sing, "Pass under 
the rod." Then she was at home, with- 
out the printed notes. The piano was 
subordinated to the singer — just as it 
always ought to be — it was an aid, and 
nothing more — her voice was to be 
heard, piano or no piano. The conso- 
nants in her words were as distinct as 
in the best oration you ever heard. 
This is the life of good delivery. And 
then the emphasis of her words was as 
marked as in animated conversation — 
sound adapted to sense, the perfection 
of harmony. Animated enjoyment and 
sad disappointment, sobbing despair and 
exultant hope, all breathed in her match- 
less cadences, while the piano echoed her 
every strain. I was soothed and thrilled 
as I had never before been by song; was 
strengthened and encouraged by my lit- 
tle, feeble-looking, fairy friend. Here 
are the words she sang : 



160 Sunday Evening Talks 

I saw the young bride, in her beauty and pride, 

Bedecked in her snowy array; 
And the bright flush of joy mantled high on 
her cheek, 
And the future looked blooming and gay; 
And with woman's devotion she laid her fond 
heart 
At the shrine of idolatrous love, 
And she anchored her hopes to this perishing 
earth, 
By the chain which her tenderness wove. 
But I saw when those heart-strings were bleed- 
ing and torn, 
And the chain had been severed in two; 
She had changed her white robes for the sables 
of grief, 
And her bloom for the paleness of woe ! 
But the Healer was there, pouring balm on her 
heart, 
And wiping the tears from her eyes; 
He strengthened the chain He had broken in 
twain, 
And fastened it firm to the skies! 
There whispered a voice — 'twas the voice of 

her God — 
" I love thee, I love thee — pass under the rod." 



With the Little Folks. , 161 

I saw a young mother in tenderness bend 
O'er the couch of her slumbering boy; 

And she kissed the soft lips as they murmured 
her name, 
While the dreamer lay smiling in joy. 

sweet as the rose-bud encircled with dew, 
When its fragrance is flung on the air, 

So fresh and so bright to that mother he seemed, 

As he lay in his innocence there. 
But I saw, when she gazed on the same lovely 
form, 

Pale as marble and silent and cold; 
But paler and colder her beautiful boy, 

And the tale of her sorrow was told! 
But the Healer was there who had stricken her 
heart, 

And taken her treasure away; 
To allure her to heaven He had placed it on high, 

And the mourner will sweetly obey. 
There had whispered a voice — 'twas the voice 

of her God — 
" I love thee, I love thee — pass under the rod." 

1 saw a father and mother who leaned 
On the arm of a dear gifted son, 

And the star of the future grew bright to their 
gaze, 
11 






162 Sunday Evening Talks 

As they saw the proud place he had won: 
And the fast-coming evening of life promised 
fair. 
And its pathway grew smooth to their feet; 
And the starlight of love glimmered bright at 
the end. 
And the whispers of fancy were sweet. 
And I saw them again bending low o'er the 
grave 
Where their hearts* dearest hope had been 
laid, 
And the star had gone down in the darkness of 
night. 
And the joy from their bosom had fled. 
But the Healer was there, and His arms were 
around. 
And he led them with tenderest care, 
And showed them a star in the bright upper 
world — 
'Twas their star shining brilliantly there! 
They had each heard a voice — 'twas the voice 

of their God — 
"I love thee. I love thee — pass under the rod." 

Such were the words : I wish you 
could have heard her sing. Tic knows 



With the Little Folks. 163 

the tune, and will aid you in learn- 
ing it. Please sing it to me next Sun- 
day night. If you will, I will tell of a 
strange circumstance in the history of 
a little boy — an old playmate of mine. 

Good-night. Pleasant dreams to you 
all. Remember Franklin's motto : 

Early to bed and early to rise, 

Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise. 




164 Sunday Evening Talks 



THE DYING BOY. 




OU will sing that song after I 
tell yiu the story? Well, that 
arrangement will suit as well as 
any. 

I made the boy's acquaintance at 
what is called " an old-field school." 
But in this case the school-house stood 
in the margin of a grand old forest that 
afforded shade in summer and fuel in 
winter — a wise provision, as our three- 
months' school came sometimes in the 
heated term, and at other times along 
about Christmas. We were all very 
much excited one snowy morning to see 
the tracks of a large bear that had 
passed along in the newly-fallen snow 
the night before. 

But when I met this little boy it was 



With the Little Folks. 165 

in the sultry summer-time. He came 
from the western part of the neighbor- 
hood, and I from the east. I loved him 
very much, for he was a sensible and 
worthy little fellow. 

One morning his seat in the school- 
room was vacant. His younger brother 
had been taken sick. A few days after- 
ward there was a burial. The next 
week my little friend was back at school. 
He looked pale and sad. His blue eyes 
were sometimes suffused with tears. 
We all sympathized with him, and made 
many efforts to divert his thoughts. His 
smiles were sweet, but soon vanished 
away. His little heart knew its own 
bitterness— a sorrow we could not re- 
move. There is no shadow more black, 
and cold, and abiding, than that made 
by a little coffin. 

Our school closed and we parted. 
Alas ! on such occasions friends so often 



166 Sunday Evening Talks 

part to meet no more on earth. Autumn 
came with its coat of many colors. Then 
Winter held his reign; and then came 
ever-welcome Spring, and 

As she passed down the vale, 
Left her robe on the trees, 
And her breath on the gale. 

The time of bursting buds and blushing 
blooms and of forest melody came on ; 
but my little blue-eyed friend was sick. 
Every effort to save his life seemed of 
no avail. Last of all, his mother gave 
up hopes of his recovery. 

One morning — it was Friday — the 
family were gathered round his couch 
to see him die. His eyes closed. Some 
thought him dead, so still and uncon- 
scious did he appear. They felt for his 
pulse ; it was faint, and feeble was his 
breath. He yet lived! In this state 
he remained for sometime, when his 
eyes opened and beamed with unwonted 



With the Little Folks. 167 

joy! Sweet smiles covered his face as 
he began to speak : 

" father, I have seen the good 
world ! it is all brighter than the sun- 
shine that comes in at that window ! I 
saw Jesus and the angels and the good 
people that are dead — all brighter than 
the sun! they are so happy! You 
never heard such singing ! And Willie 
has come back with me to stay till next 
Sunday; we will leave next Sunday;" 
and on and on he went, talking to all 
that approached his bed. 

The case became the talk of the neigh- 
borhood. Was the vision objective or 
subjective 6 ! Had he seen such glories, 
or had he imagined them ? 

"Do you think he will die Sunday?" 
w T as an oft-repeated question. 

Saturday night brought an unusual 
number of watchers. At midnight he 
was speechless. At cock-crowing he 



168 Sunday Evening Talks 

was barely alive. Roseate hues began 
to usher in the dawn ; then floods of 
light rested on hill and dale; the birds 
were singing their Sunday songs ; dew- 
drops glittered on leaf and flower. Fit 
time for angel visitors ! The child " fell 
asleep" — was dead — a sweet smile still 
left upon his features. His soul had 
gone to God. " Of such is the kingdom 
of heaven." 

But autumn came, and every leaf 
Hung yellow on the tree. 

A sacramental meeting was held in 
the vicinity by our Presbyterian friends. 
Among the neiv communicants was the 
father of the little boy that had died. 
It was from his trembling lips that your 
Uncle John heard the particulars of his 
boy's last days on earth. Taking it in 
all its circumstances, the case is a very 
strange one — one of the most remarka- 



With the Little Folks. 169 

ble I have met with in a pilgrimage of 

more than fifty years. 

But now we are ready to hear that 

song. 

...... • 

Very well clone for a beginning ! 







170 Sunday Evening Talks 



ABOUT CLOCKS. 




IGHT o'clock, is it? It is a 
great thing to have time-keep- 
ers. 

Clocks are very common in 
the United States — less common in 
other lands — and pretty fair preachers 
are they, by the way, if we but heed the 
lessons they enjoin. 

1. They teach regularity. A good clock 
does not do, as some boys I have known, 
a big job in a hurry, to get time to go 
into forbidden company; but having a 
certain amount of work to do, it works 
on deliberately till the task is thorough- 
ly performed. It seems not in a hurry, 
knowing that what is done by "fits and 
starts " is of little or no value. It takes 
time to attend well to the little seconds, 



With the Little Folks. 171 

as on honest seconds depend true min- 
utes, hours, and days — all the counts are 
wrong if the first be inaccurate. So the 
good clock preaches honesty as well as 
regularity to the student, the ship- 
builder, the mechanic, and all other 
people. Like a good Christian, it at- 
tends to the little duties, as on these 
depend great results. The highest 
praise that can be passed upon a Chris- 
tian is to say "he is as regular as a 
clock." 

2. Clocks teach us patience. How im- 
patient a boy would be were he required 
to count off the seconds of even one 
night — to tap, tap ; tap, tap ; tap, tap — 
with his forefinger on a stick as often as 
a clock tick, ticks, in a day! Yet we 
never hear the clock complaining. From 
day to day, from year to year, it grows 
not weary, if you give it, day by day, its 
daily winding. It is never so cheerful 



172 Sunday Evening Talks 

as when doing its appointed task — an 
example to all the good people, whether 
young or old. Happy is he. and only 
he. that can truly say. " I delight to do 
thy will, God." 

3. Clocks teach tis dependence. Did you 
ever hear anybody say, "I am my own 
— I will do as I please?'' Such a per- 
son generally pleases to do very wick- 
edly. The good Book tells us. " Ye are 
not vour own. but ye are bought with a 
price ; therefore glorify God in your 
bodies and spirits, which are his.". You 
never heard of a clock's claiming to be 
its own. and trying to run on its own 
account, or of its trying to wind itself 
up : no. it leaves all such foolishness to 
the sons of men ; it can do nothing with- 
out the owner's power imparted to its 
mechanism. Some clocks have such 
heavy weights and long ropes that a 
winding up will do them a long time — 



With the Little Folks. 173 

eight days, a year, and, in one case, a 
century. But all their power is derived 
force; yet every tick proclaims the 
clock's indebtedness and dependence. 
So are we dependent on our Lord, " who 
worketh in us," that we may be prepared 
for " every good word and work." 

4. Clocks remind us of death. Whether 
new or old, there is a limit to their du- 
rability. Clock-doctors may aid the 
crippled ones awhile, but after awhile a 
stand-still must come. Each vibration 
counts one in the grand aggregate of 
strokes. With us, 

Every beating pulse we tell, 
Leaves but the number less. 

Sooner or later must 

The weary wheels of life stand still at last. 

It is said that a certain great king 
had a servant appointed to come into 
his presence every morning and say, 



174 



Sunday Evening Talks 



u king, thou art mortal!" In our 
case the " tell-tale" clock performs a 
similar service. Death need not take 
us unawares. 

We pause, as the bell calls to prayers. 



°&4 




With the Little Folks. 175 



JUDEA. 




OU are pleased with Bishop Mar- 
vin's Letters ? We shall never 
look upon their like again. For 
instance, take his letters about 
the Holy Land: you get from them a 
more tangible picture than you will 
from any other source within the com- 
pass of my reading. 

And now that the evening prayers 
have been offered, let us look at this 
map of Judea. The extent of country 
here represented is much less than most 
people imagine; but it has occupied 
more space in conversation, in the pul- 
pit, in history, and in poetry, than any 
other section of equal extent — perhaps 
ten times more — and the more you know 
about it the better for you. For with- 



176 Sunday Evening Tales 

out a knowledge of that land, you will 
often appear at a disadvantage in con- 
versation. And without that knowl- 
edge, you will fail to fully understand 
and appreciate much that you hear from 
the pulpit, and much that you read in 
history and in poetry. Without Judea, 
literature would have a desert greater 
than the Sahara in Africa. 

Watson's Dictionary, as edited by 
Dr. Summers, is a capital book of ref- 
erence on this subject. It says : 

"Judea, a district of Asia Minor, which 
is described by ancient and modern geog- 
raphers under a great variety of names 
and with a great diversity of extent. 
In the most extensive application of the 
name, it comprehends the w r hole coun- 
try possessed by the Jews, or the people 
of Israel, and included, therefore, very 
different portions of territory at differ- 
ent periods of their history." 



With the Little Folks. 177 

But we shall not now quote the whole 
article from which we have read. 

There is Damascus, once conquered 
by David, and by Tamerlane and others 
— the oldest city on the pages of authen- 
tic history. There is Jerusalem, more 
fought over than any other ten cities in 
the world — by Babylonian, Egyptian, 
Grecian, Roman, Syrian, Persian, Mo- 
hammedan, European armies. All Eu- 
rope struggled to wrest the Holy City 
from the infidels in frightful wars, called 
the Crusades. They were so named 
because the Christians had a cross (crux, 
cruris) on their clothes and standards. 
There were eight Crusades, in which, it 
is said, the Christians lost eight millions 
of lives and countless treasures. 

Even Napoleon the Great led an ex- 
pedition into Judea and fought the infi- 
del beneath the shadow of Tabor. 

Yes, learn all you can about Judea, 
12 



178 Sunday Evening Talks 

where Abraham walked, and also Mo- 
ses, and David, and Solomon, and Paul. 
There were the foot-prints of Jesus, who 
went about doing good. From Judea 
poets have gathered inspiration and 
borrowed themes and illustrations with- 
out number. Take the following as a 
fine and affecting specimen : 

Blest land of Judea! thrice hallowed of song, 
Where the holiest of memories, pilgrim-like, 

throng; 
In the shades of thy palms, by the shores of 

thy sea, 
On the hills of thy beauty, my heart is with 

thee. 
"With the eye of a spirit, I look on that 

shore, 
Where the pilgrim and prophet have lingered 

before, 
With the glide of a spirit I traverse the sod 
Made bright by the steps of the angels of 

God. 
Blue hills of the sea ! in my spirit I hear 
Thy waters, Gennesaret, chime on my ear, 



With the Little Folks. 179 

Where the Lowly and Just with the people sat 

down, 
And thy spray on the dust of His sandals was 

thrown. 
Beyond are Bethulia's mountains of green, 
And the desolate hills of the wild G-adarene; 
I pause on the goat- crags of Tabor to see 
The gleam of thy waters. dark Galilee! 
Hark! a sound in the valleys, where swollen 

and strong, 
Thy river, O Kishon, is sweeping along; 
Where the Canaanite strove with Jehovah in 

vain, 
And thy torrent grew dark with the blood of 

the slain. 
There, down from his mountain stern Zebulon 

came, 
And Naphtali's stag, with his eye-balls of 

flame, 
And the chariots of Jabin rolled harmlessly 

on, 
ISTear the arm of the Lord was Abinoam's son. 
There sleep the still rocks, and the caverns 

which rang 
To the song which the beautiful prophetess 

sang, 



180 Sunday Evening Talks 

When the princes of Issachar stood by her side, 
And the shout of a host in its triumph replied! 
Lo! Bethlehem's hiil-side before me is seen, 
With the mountains around, with fair valleys 

between; 
There rested the shepherds of Judah, and there 
The song of the angels rose high in the air. 
And Bethany's palm-trees in beauty still throw 
Their shadows at noon on the ruins below; 
But where are the sisters who hastened to 

greet 
The lowly Eedeemer, and sit at his feet? 
I tread where the Twelve in their wayfaring 

trod; 
I stand where they stood, with the chosen of 

God; 
Where his blessings were heard, and the peo- 
ple were taught, 
Where the blind were restored, and great heal- 
ing was wrought. 
O here with his flock the sad Wanderer came, 
The hills he toiled over are ever the same — 
These founts where he drank by the way-side 

still flow, 
And the same breeze that cooled as it kissed his 
dear brow. 



With the Little Folks. .181 

And throned on thy hills sits Jerusalem yet, 
With ashes for diadem — the chains on her feet. 
Ah! the crown of her might to the mocker is 

gone! 
And the holy Shekinah? — 'tis dark where it 

shone! 
But wherefore this dream of the earthly abode 
Of Immanuel clothed with the power of God? 
Where my spirit has turned from the outward 

and dim, 
It can gaze, even now, on the presence of Him — 
Not in clouds and in terrors, but gentle, as 

when, 
In love and in meekness, he walked among 

men, 
And the voice bade peace to the raging dark 

sea, 
In the hush of my spirit doth whisper to me. 
And what if one's feet ne'er stand where he 

stood, 
Nor his ears bear the murmur of Galilee's flood, 
Nor his knees press Gethsemane's garden of 

prayer? 
Yet, loved of the Father, his Spirit is near 
To the meek, and the lowly, and the penitent 

heir; 






182 Sunday Evening Talks 

And the voice of his love soothes everywhere 

now. 
As at Bethany's tomb, or on Olivet's brow. 
Yes. the " temple ' ; hath gone — not the glory 

and power: 
The Spirit survived the things of that hour: 
Unchanged, undecaying. its Pentecost flame 
On the heart's inmost altar e'er biirneth the 

same. 

Good-night, little clears. Peaceful be 
your dreams ! 



^^w? 



^^^I^^pg^r' 




<*h 



^b£AMm 



m-MMii > 




With the Little Folks. 183 



NEARLY FIFTY YEARS AGO. 

l||jf ERE we are around our blazing 
WjM fire — warm, comfortable. Let us 

^j£ play " Taking an Excursion." 
We will have to clon our warm- 
est clothes, cloaks, comforters, and 
gloves: the weather is cold, and the 
north wind is abroad in its might. 

We get our tickets and board the 
cars. You must wear your best man- 
ners : here are people from various 
parts of the land; and true politeness 
is very becoming in little folks every- 
where — especially in company. You 
see these travelers dressed in all kinds 
of styles, every one to his own taste and 
means. It would be interesting to know 
who they are, and whence they came, 
and whither bound. But did vou hear 



184 Sunday EveneStg Talks 

that whistle? Here we must get off 
the train. 

There is no stage-coach or hack-line 
going in our direction. The country is 
too rough for the delicate buggies and 
carriages made nowadays ; so I have en- 
gaged a farm-wagon. Gome, all aboard ! 
and "we will all take a ride." 

Here we are in the hill-country. The 
people who live in cities and down in 
the level lands of the South know noth- 
ing about the ever-changing scenery of 
this mixture of hill and dale. But our 
wagon cannot well go where we want to 
rang^e to-day; so, Mr. Driver, you may 
stop here and await our return. 

Wow we must go horseback or afoot. 
As horses are sometimes tricky, and, 
just now, rather scarce, we will take 
"Walker's Express." The walk will 
keep us warm, and be good for our 
health. 



With the Little Folks. 185 

These cabins abound in children. 
Church and State often get their " pil- 
lars " from the hills ; and though these 
little folks, in their humble homes, 
never saw a river or railroad — never 
saw a town or city — they have good 
minds, and some of them love their 
books. Once they taste of knowledge, 
there is no telling what positions they 
may some day and somewhere obtain. 

But look how high the hills mount 
up toward the blue sky ! In some sec- 
tions, such elevations are called mount- 
ains ; but here, where the vast mount- 
ains hedge in this " Switzerland of 
America," these little mountains are 
awed into subjection, and wear the mod- 
est name of hills. What majestic trees ! 
See that poplar twelve feet around and 
seventy feet to the first limb ! 

And here murmurs the same brook 
from which I drew perch, horny-chubs, 



186 Sunday Evening Talks 

and silver-sides, in the long ago — its 
banks covered with moss, and green as 
ever. 

There is the clear, cold spring, from 
which, with a little gourd, we drank, 
when going to Sunday-school ; for then 
we sometimes stayed at Sunday-school 
all day. Here, taste how good the water 
is ! This beech is much larger now ; 
but there it holds in its aged bark 
names carved by boys who hoped to 
be remembered. 

Right up this point once led the path 
from the spring to the church. Now it 
is covered with leaves, and across it lies 
that huge oak log — once a monarch of 
this wood. But let us work our way 
around as best we can. Once the path 
shone bright with frequent tread of lit- 
tle feet. 

Here, in this space devoid of trees, 
once stood the log-house sanctuary. 






With the Little Folks. 187 

The exact spot, you see, is marked by 
these old stones that served to support 
the corners of the house. It stood north 
and south; the door at the north end 
and the pulpit at the south, an aisle 
straight between, a row of benches on 
each side — benches made of slabs — 
benches without backs, on which the 
people gladly sat to hear the gospel 
news. 

Right here, where the altar stood, 
baptismal water was poured upon my 
head, when five years old; and at the 
same time was my mother and the 
household sealed with the holy rite. 
AVell do I remember that solemn 
day. 

And here, on each hand, were gath- 
ered the children for miles around, in 
the blessed Sunday-school. You would 
scarce believe what heart-lessons were 
recited from the Old and New Testa- 



188 Sunday Evening Talks 

nients, and from the catechism. Most 
of those children gave their hearts to 
God in early life, and early joined the 
Church. Many have gone to j oin friends 
above ; many yet survive, but are scat- 
tered far and near. 

Just down there, at the corner of that 
little field, stood the house in which was 
taught the common school. Just before 
the old school-house was abandoned. I 
attended school there, the first taught 
by a stripling boy. whose father lived 
just across that hill: the boy's name 
was Samuel Milligan, afterward a Judge 
of the Supreme Court of Tennessee, and 
subsequently a Judge of the Court of 
Claims, at Washington. A noble man : 
to his memory peace ! 

Here, sit down on this dried grass a 
moment to rest, and I will tell you of an 
old man, a rather singular genius, that 
used to come into our Sunday-school, a 






With the Little Folks. 189 

little before meeting-time, on days when 
there was to be preaching. He was old 
and gray-headed, lean, and shriveled, 
leaning upon his strong hickory staff. 
All his children were in the Church : 
one the esteemed class-leader, another a 
useful local preacher ; but he wanted to 
see how his grandchildren were doing. 
He wore a smile, and the little folks 
loved to happen in his way: a peach 
now, an apple then, and chestnuts at 
another time — kind words all the while 
— all had their charm. 

Few men loved music as did he — -the 
music of birds, and brooks, and bairns, 
and brethren dear ; yet, strange to say^ 
nature had denied him a tuneful voice. 
To remedy this privation as far as possi- 
ble, he made, or had made, a large fid- 
dle, as dear to him as " David's harp of 
solemn sound." Oft might he have been 
seen, his face aglow with something akin 



190 Sunday Evening Talks 

to ecstasy, his eye on the hymn-book, 
his hand on the bow, making his home 
vocal with instrumental praise — " play- 
ing skillfully with a loud noise." He 
was, to my mind, some akin to David of 
old. His music had for me a charm; 
and it was sweet enough to have driven 
the evil spirit out of Saul. A good old 
man, and ripe for the kingdom, as his 
happy death soon showed us all. Shame 
upon those who have good voices, yet 
never sing ! My little friends, learn to 
sing — "Sing praises, sing praises," 
"With heart, and harp, and voice." 

Well, these old houses are gone, to 
give place for better ones a mile away, 
in better sites, more convenient and ac- 
cessible. What changes nearly fifty 
years have brought ! But I thank God 
for the Sunday-school that flourished 
here in that " long ago." 

But rise; our driver is waiting to 



With the Little Folks. 191 

take us back to the train. Quick! or 
we shall be late. • 

Here, all aboard the wagon! JSTow, 
Mr. Driver, make good time ! be a Jehu ! 

There ! did you hear the whistle at the 
next station ? Just in time ! 

"All aboard!" 'Twill be sundown 
when we get back to our own depot. It 
is sweet to go abroad, but sweeter to go 
home. 

Here we come — all back at last ! But 
we have played " Going on an Excur- 
sion" long enough for one night. 

Remember, "Early to bed and early 
to rise." 



192 Sunday Evening Talks 



AN OLD CHESTNUT-TREE. 




'ELL, here are some chestnuts 
$(fiM to-night — very large and sweet. 
While you eat I will talk. 
Do you all know that Tennes- 
see was once a part of North Carolina ? 
Such was the fact, as all the histories 
of either State will tell you. Many of 
the old land-titles in Tennessee were 
granted by old North Carolina, the 
mother State. Among them is one for 
a piece of land " lying on both sides of 
the Great Indian Path" — a tract that 
we happen to know was about seventy- 
five miles east of the growing city of 
Knoxville. There a man by the name 
of King erected a strong log -house, 
about the time that the " backwoods- 
men," under Campbell, Sevier, and 



With the Little Folks. 193 

Shelby, led their volunteer forces across 
the Alleghanies and so unexpectedly and 
successfully captured Ferguson, com- 
mander of King George's troops, so 
strongly encamped near the confines of 
South Carolina, on King's Mountain. 
What relation these three " Kings" sus- 
tained to one another, it might be inter- 
esting to inquire. The loss of King's 
Mountain was the key to the capture of 
the King George's army at Yorktown; 
and the surrender at Yorktown led to 
peace, and to Mr. King's settlement on 
the " Great Indian Path." 

The house built by King was taken 
down by my father a few years ago. 
The old stone chimney was hard to take 
down. The cement had been lime, and 
this had been changed back to stone by 
the absorption of carbonic acid gas, so 
that many of the stones seem grown to- 
gether. There was no window in the 
13 



194 Sunday Evening Talks 

house through which Indians might 
peep, crawl, or shoot. The logs were 
large, well hewn, having "diamond cor- 
ners" at the ends. 

On this farm were many nodules of 
flint. There were many traces of an 
Indian camp — fragments of their broken 
work, arrow-heads, and the like. "In- 
dian peaches" were still extant when I 
was a boy — one of the finest varieties 
of the peach I have ever seen. 

There, on the top of a gently rising 
hill, stood a unique chestnut-tree — Cas- 
tanea vesca — under which the squaws 
and papooses cracked chestnuts as you 
are doing; now. It is of lara'e girth near 
the o'round, though not tall — not more 
than forty feet. Some ten feet from the 
ground it divides, and the great limb 
subdivides till the tree has an immense 
top, like an apple-tree, only much larger 
every way, covering about three thou- 



With the Little Folks. 195 

sand square feet of earth. How often 
has it sheltered man and beast ! a favor- 
ite retreat for the lark and other tune- 
ful birds ; a source of wealth to the 
frugal bees when in bloom ; and to the 
little people when the large, sweet fruit 
came rattling down in autumn. Even 
old Santa Claus here laid in supplies 
with which to fill little pockets and tiny 
stockings at Christmas times. Blessed 
old tree! the crowning glory of the hill! 
It may well be questioned whether better 
chestnuts ever grew, and whether any 
tree ever yielded a greater quantity. 

In memory are the pictures of many 
trees — the deep -green balsam of the 
lofty mountain-top ; of the white-armed 
sycamore, or buttonwoocl, of the majestic 
Mississippi ; of the great poplars of the 
hills; of the solemn weeping -willow 
mourning o'er the dead; of the graceful 
pines sighing in the breeze; of the 



196 Sunday Evening Talks 

sugar-yielding maple of the vales ; the 
grand magnolia of the sunny South; of 
the cherry, heavy with its red berries ; 
of the golden-fruited apple — but none 
is lovelier than this one of the old wide- 
branching chestnut-tree that, time out 
of mind, has been the delight of the 
valley where it grows, " delighting bird, 
and bee, and bairn." How like the good 
old man mentioned in the first Psalm, 
"that bringeth forth his fruit in his sea- 
son!" and how like the righteous man, 
"had in everlasting remembrance!" " 
woodman, spare that tree!" 

Again, how easy for a buffalo to have 
crushed this tree in its infancy! How 
easy for Master Indian Eagle-eye to 
have cut down the tender sapling with 
his tomahawk! or the Miss Indian Rain- 
bow to have peeled the thrifty tree for 
its bark to make her a band-box! How 
easy for the first settler to have cut it 



With the Little Folks. 197 

down, had it been unfruitful ! or for the 
selfish emigrant, on the big road that 
passed near by, to have kindled against 
it his camp-fire for the night! How 
like the Christian who often sings of 
dangers past, 

But out of all the Lord 
Has brought us by his grace ! 

May you, my little clears, be shielded 
from . the dangers that threaten you 
along life's pathway! and may you, 
like that chestnut-tree, be an honor to 
the place where you may live! and 
may you be " always abounding in the 
work of the Lord," and be "had in 
everlasting remembrance ! " 



198 Sunday Evening Talks 



A WAIF. 




^LEAF flitted across my path 

one bright morning in summer. 

It was not an ordinary leaf from 

the forest — veined, and notched, 

and painted in purple and gold. It was 

a printed leaf lit up with the sheen of 

poesy. I laid it by for the good of my 

little proteges. You cannot read it, or 

hear it read, without thinking of our 

little friends in heaven — alas! "Who 

has not lost a friend?" But here is the 

poem : 

A CHILD'S DEEAM. 

O cradle me on your knee, mamma! 

And sing me the holy strain 
That soothed me last, as you fondly pressed 
My glowing cheek to your soft, warm breast; 
For I saw a sight, as you sang me to rest, 

That I fain would see again. 




^^.fr.-j 



With the Little Folks. 199 

And smile as you then did smile, mamma, 

And weep as you then did weep; 
Then fix on me your glistening eye, 
And gaze, and gaze till the tear be dry; 
Then rock me gently, and sing, and sigh, 

Till you lull me fast asleep. 

For I dreamed a heavenly dream, mamma, 

While slumbering on your knee; 
And I lived in a land where forms divine, 
In kingdoms of glory, eternally shine; 
And the world I 'd give, if the world were mine, 

Again that land to see. 

I fancied we roamed through a wood, mamma, 

And rested us under a bough; 
Then by us a butterfly fluttered in pride, 
And I chased it, away through the forest wide; 
And the night came down, and I lost my guide, 

And I knew not what to do. 

My heart grew sick with fear, mamma, 

And I loudly wept for thee; 
But a white-robed maiden appeared in the air, 
And she flung back the curls of her golden hair, 
And she kissed me so softly, ere I was aware, 

Saying, w Come, pretty baby, with me!" 



200 Sunday Evening Talks 

My tears and fears she beguiled, mamma. 

And she led me far away; 
We entered the door of a dark, dark tomb; 
We passed through a long, long vault of gloom; 
Then opened our eyes on a land of bloom, 

And a sky of endless day. 

And heavenly forms were there, mamma, 

And lovely cherubs bright — 
They smiled when they saw me, but I was 

amazed, 
And wondering, around me I gazed, and gazed. 
And songs I heard, and sunny beams blazed 

All glorious in the land of light. 

But soon came a shining throng, mamma, 

Of white-winged babies to me; 
Their eyes looked love, and their sweet lips 

smiled, 
And they marveled to meet me, an earth-born 

child; 
And they gloried that I from earth was exiled, 
Saying, " Here, love, thou blessed shalt be." 

Then I mixed with the heavenly throng, mam- 
ma, 
With cherubs and seraphs fair; 



With the Little Folks. 201 

And I saw as I roamed through the regions of 
peace, 

The spirits which came from this world of dis- 
tress, 

And theirs was the joy no tongue can express; 
For they know not sorrow there. 

Do you mind when Sister Jane, mamma, 

Lay dead a short time agone? 
How you gazed on the sad and lovely wreck, 
With a full flood of woe you could not check, 
And your heart was sore, you thought it would 
break? 

But you lived, and you oft sobbed on. 

But 0! had you been with me, mamma, 

In the realms of unknown care, 
To see what I saw, you'd ne'er have cried, 
Though you buried pretty Jane in the grave 

when she died; 
For shining with the blest, and adorned like a 
bride, 
Sweet Sister Jane was there! 

But do you mind that poor old man, mamma, 

Who came so late to our door? 
And the night was dark, and the tempest loud, 



202 Sunday Evening Talks 

And his heart was weak, but his soul so proud, 
And his ragged old mantle was his dying shroud 
Ere the morning watch was o'er? 

And think what a load of woe, mamma, 

Made heavy his long-drawn sighs, 
As the poor man sat in the old arm-chair, 
And the snow did melt from his thin gray hair, 
And fell with the tears of speechless care, 
That dropped from his blinking eyes! 

And think what a heavenward look, mamma, 

Elashed from his smiling eye, 
As he told how he went to the baron's strong- 
hold, 
And said, " O let me in, for the night is cold!" 
And the rich man said, " Go sleep in the wold; 

The better, the sooner you die!" 

O he was in glory, too, mamma, 

As happy as happy can be ! 
He needed no alms in the regions of light, 
For he sat with the elders, all clothed in white, 
Not a seraph was there had a crown more 
bright, 

Or a shinier robe than he! 

Now sing! For I 'm anxious to sleep, mamma, 



With the Little Folks. 



203 



To dream as I dreamed before. 
So sweet was that slumber and the sight of the 

blest! 
If again in the regions of light I 'm a guest, 
Mamma, please say I may stay and be blest, 

And ne'er come back any more ! 

Thus ends the song. One thing is 
certain : the people who have no hope 
of heaven are deprived of a great many 
pleasures which others enjoy. 




<£>- 



204 Sunday Evening Talks 



ROASTING THE ORES. 




$W^Tl was a cold November night. 

(SI I remember it well, though I 
was but four years old. Our 
mother rushed into our sleep- 
ing-room, bidding us flee for life, as the 
house was a-fire ! 

We hastened out, my eldest brother 
taking our clothing, which he managed 
to lose by hiding it in the stone cellar. 

The great pyramid of flame seemed 
to pierce the skies! Around, all was 
black, but not silent — the whole neigh- 
borhood of dogs barked as dogs never 
barked before ! My mother's cries for 
help came back in echoes from a neigh- 
boring hill. My father was every- 
where. But where were the neighbors ? 
Fast asleep ! except one wakeful house- 



"With the Little Folks. 205 

wife, who thought the hunter's clogs 
made "an uncommon racket." 

Our tall new house, late my father's 
pride, a pile of flame ! We shivered in 
the bleak wind, around the burning 
ruin. How desolate we felt ! More 
than once my mother counted her chil- 
dren to see that all were there ! 

Long we stood there, not knowing 
what to do. Before day our nearest 
neighbor, half a mile away, saw our 
grief and came to take us to his home. 
Bless the memory of that good old 
Baptist brother! 

As we marched along, how cold and 
sharp the frozen ground and the whis- 
tling wind ! Xever shall I forget that 
doleful march! Since then I hare 
known how to pity poor soldiers march- 
ing in midwinter destitute of shoes. 

Xext day my father rented a cabin a 
mile from our old home. Kind friends 



206 Sunday Evening Talks 

saw that, as my father was a mechanic 
and had invested his all in the erection 
of his late home, a time to afford him 
succor had come. One gave a chair, 
another a quilt, a third a small pair of 
shoes, and so on, till we could move 
into the cabin, which we did right 
away. 

Then followed a dark winter — mother 
sick with fever; father hindered in 
his operations, with a family of half- 
clad children to watch over and sup- 
port. 

But all things earthly must have an 
end : the dark winter gave place to ever- 
welcome spring. With spring came 
health. A cabin of our own was erected 
near the ashes of our former home. 
My parents became religious and joined 
the Church, and we little folks were 
taken to Sunday-school. Long years 
afterward, I chanced to see the register 



With the Little Folks. 207 

of that year, and found the record of 
our entrance, where, opposite my hum- 
ble name, my age was put down "four 
years." I We been in the Sunday-school 
army ever since — and how great has it 
now become ! 

God had taught us wisdom. Before 
the burning of our home our thoughts 
were about the things of earth; after- 
ward we were led to think of heaven. 

Soon the family altar was erected in 
our humble abode. Six hundred moons 
have waxed and waned since first we 
offered up the evening sacrifice upon 
our family altar. Xo two of those that 
there bowed in prayer are now together 
— scattered far and wide — three of them 
no more on earth. But the influences 
of that altar will never die ! 

What a blessing, a few years later, 
was the Advocate, edited at Xashville, 
by the now sainted Stringfield ! I can 



208 Sunday Evening Talks 

never tell how much I am indebted to 
that religious newspaper. 

After awhile there was found in the 
paper an item that made me long to 
leave home : tivo boys ivei"e wanted in the 
printing-office. What would I not have 
given to be one of them ! If sailor-boys 
have such a longing for the sea, 'tis no 
wonder that they go. I laid my case 
before my eldest brother ; but it stirred 
no sympathy in his heart. JSTo rail- 
roads then offered aid in making a long 
journey— there was then none of them 
in the land. Had there been, I had no 
money. Could we make it afoot — hun- 
dreds of miles over mountains and 
rivers? We would have made the 
journey had not my brother declined to 
go into the proposition. Somehow I 
had not the courage to go alone. Had 
the wealth of Vanderbilt been mine, all 
might have gone could I thereby have 



With the Little Folks. 209 

become a follower of Dr. Franklin! 
Happening to tell a friend one day my 
desires on the subject, lie proposed to 
take me into his business and establish 
a county newspaper. Then I felt hap- 
pier than he who cried Eureka! But 
that very autumn my friend grew sick 
and died. My heart sickened, too, over 
blighted hopes. 

But disappointed here, I have been 
led on by a providential Hand, and in- 
ducted into the ministry and into the 
office of instructor of young men in col- 
lege. Grod knows what plans are best. 
He allows me to write and talk for the 
little folks — the very ones above all 
others for whom I love to labor. 

And now, a word before parting to- 
night. You, too, may be called to pass 
through fiery trials and dark seasons, 
to suffer disappointments and the wreck 

of cherished plans ; but, believe me, all 
14 



210 



Sunday Evening Talks 



these things shall result in greater good 
to you, if you will but place your hand 
in the hand of Him " whose under- 
standing is infinite," and " whose mercy 
endureth forever." 




Y 



With the Little Folks. 211 



ROSE-BUDS. 



fOES not every one love the open- 
ing bud of the queenly rose? 
Such is my opinion. Moore 
sings : 

There 's a bower of roses by Bendemeer's 
stream, 
And the nightingale sings around it all the 
daylong; 
In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet 
dream, 
To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song. 
That bower and its music I never forget, 

But oft when alone in the bloom of the year, 
I think— is the nightingale singing there yet? 
Are the roses still bright by the calm Bende- 
meer? 

But the buds come before there can 
be roses — buds the best emblem ever 
found of development. How they re- 



212 Sunday Evening- Talks 

mind me of children, tlie hope of the 
Church and of the Nation ! 

But children bloom to exist forever ! 
It has been truly said : " The birth of an 
infant is a greater event than the produc- 
tion of the sun. The sun is only a lump 
of senseless matter ; it sees not its own 
light, it feels not its own heat, and with 
all its grandeur it w T ill cease to be ; but 
that infant, beginning only yesterday to 
breathe, is possessed of reason — claims 
a principle infinitely superior to all mat- 
ter, and will live throughout the ages of 
eternity." 

It was a remark of Pericles, in his 
famous oration at the funeral of the 
Athenian youths that had perished in 
the Samian expedition, that "the loss 
which the commonwealth sustained by 
the destruction of its youth was like the 
loss which the year would sustain by 
the destruction of its spring." 



With the Little Folks. 213 

Alas ! should all the children of the 
Church be put to the sword by some 
Herod-general ! 

How significant the Saviour's solemn 
injunction, " Feed my lambs !" and what 
a sermon in its every word! 

Shame upon us that these "lambs" 
are so much neglected ! My heart often 
bleeds when I think how children are 
neglected by the nation, by the Church, 
and by the family. Here is a great and 
crying evil, one that clay and night cries 
to Heaven. 

God bless you, little folks, and bless 
the children everywhere ! Were I talk- 
ing to the grandees of earth, I should 
have much less hope of doing them good 
than I have of benefiting you. They 
are so immersed in cares and incased in 
evil habits, that the chance of doing 
them good is small. Not so with the 
young, for their hearts are yet tender, 



214 Sunday Evening Talks 

and are like the "good ground" into 
which the farmer easts with hope his 
seed-corn, with an assurance of the most 
gratifying results : he may go forth bear- 
ing the heat and burden of his toil, but 
his reward is sure. Most of the mem- 
bers of the Church are such as came to 
the Saviour in the days of their youth — 
such as you are now. 

Alas ! what a number of " rose-buds" 
— little people — are gathered by Death 
every year ! But triumph ! these same 
rose-buds are to be taken from Death 
by the Immanuel — God with us — and 
then be caused to bloom forever in the 
skies. 



With the Little Folks. 215 



MY FIRST CAMP-MEETING. 




m 



a child the nursery is the 
world. By degrees that little 
world gets larger and larger. A 
trip to a neighbor s is a new era 
in his history. To go along with a nut- 
ting party to a hill-top, gives him new 
prospects, and enlarges not only his 
horizon, but his store of knowledge. 
And when, called by business or pleas- 
ure, he first goes abroad from home, a 
hundred objects engage his thoughts and 
arouse his feelings, leaving pictures 
upon his memory to endure forever. 

My first excursion outside my native 
neighborhood was to aid a neighbor in 
bringing his family home from Carter 
Station Camp-meeting, in Greene coun- 
ty, Tennessee. My office was to ride a 



216 Sunday Evening Talks 

horse and lead another — one span of the 
team that was to haul the family home 
in a large, old-fashioned, four-horse wag- 
on — a distance of some ten honest En- 
glish miles. 

What great and strange forests we 
passed through! What wide farms 
opening out here and there along the 
way! What unfamiliar people seen 
along the road ! How strange the water- 
courses, and what a singular old mill 
with its great busy wheel! On reaching 
the top of a high hill, what a large pros- 
pect stretched away to the distant, dark, 
grand old mountain that leaned uj3 
against the sky! Never before had I 
felt the grandeur of this great world. 

The dav was fine. Here we saw the 
nimble, striped ground-squirrel, as it 
hastily sought its hole ; there, the flocks 
of birds, as they dashed across the road ; 
the roads grew brighter and brighter — 



With the Little Folks. 217 

fit type of the Christian's pathway as he 
nears the celestial city. The neighing 
of so many horses fell strangely upon 
my ear. Soon I saw them — a countless 
throng — hitched among the trees in the 
grove, and then covered wagons by the 
score ; and then, beyond, were rows of 
cook-sheds and camps — enough to make 
a little town. People of all kinds were 
moving about in all directions, and all 
around was the hum of the vast multi- 
tude. 

I was soon told that we would not re- 
turn home till after dinner, and I wan- 
dered about the encampment to learn 
what was going on. The great shecl, or 
arbor, in the middle of the encampment, 
struck my attention. Under it were as- 
sembling a vast multitude — more people 
than I had ever seen in all my life be- 
fore. 

Just then I was awed by the blast of 



218 Srxi'AY Evz\:::; Tal::- 

the solemn trumpet. Perhaps I looked 

alarmed, as some one kindly told me 

the trumpet was the signal for public 
worship. Soon hundreds of voices were 

joined in song — such singing as I had 
never heard before ! I was fortunate in 
getting a seat, as the crowd was im- 
mense. A devout-looking, well-dressed 

man ascended the pulpit. He read his 
hymn in an impressive manner, and 
then lined it for the congregation to sing. 
He bowed in supplication, and heaven 
and earth seemed to come together as 
he prayed. 

Then rolled from a thousand ani- 
mated voices the grand old battle-hymn : 

A charge to keep I h:." 

A God to glorify. 
A never-dying soul to save. 

And fit it for the sky — 

sung in such spirit as to set every one 

on his guard. 



With the Little Folks. 219 

The preacher, as I afterward learned, 
was William T. Senter, one of the great- 
est orators in the Church — father of ex- 
Governor Senter. His text was, "The 
righteous shall grow like a cedar in 
Lebanon." His words were fitly chosen, 
and so uttered as to give force to the 
consonant sounds. Never since that 
day have I heard such masterly articu- 
lation. I have been told that Mr. Sen- 
ter had mastered every word in the dic- 
tionary, both in its definition and pro- 
nunciation. But who can describe his 
emphasis ? His pathos animated every 
power of soul and body — another burn- 
ing bush, yet not consumed ! 

How the picture of that tree — the 
cedar of Lebanon — grew under the mag- 
ical touches of his matchless eloquence ! 
The tender sprig in the fertile soil be- 
tween the cool rocks on the lofty mount- 
ain side, now touched by the wing of the 



220 Sunday Evening • Talks 

gentle zephyr, then refreshed by the 
grateful dew ; now warmed by the radi- 
ant sunshine, then gladdened by the fall- 
ing rain ; growing in calm weather, then 
tried. and strengthened by the storm; 
the graceful young cedar, conscious of 
its symmetry and strength, sending 
down its strong roots among the rocks, 
and spreading its branches all around 
and upward toward the blue sky ; then 
the old giant tree, firm-rooted and bat- 
tling with time and tempest — ever green 
— the glory of Lebanon, the beautiful 
mountain of Canaan ! 

With language as fitting as his voice 
was sweet, he showed that though pro- 
nounced evergreen, the tree was not free 
from danger, and that the righteous 
whom it typified were also in danger. 
" See that little yellow twig on yonder 
great limb that comes out half-way up 
the majestic trunk: that twig tells of 



With the Little Folks. 221 

danger ! If thy right hand offend thee, cut 
it off: there is clanger lurking there, 
great clanger ! See, the evil in that lit- 
tle twig has spread — other twigs are 
dying ! If thy right eye offend thee, pluck 
it out and cast it from thee: there is more 
than mortal danger lurking there ! See, 
the contagion spreads. That great limb 
is dying ! Who can stay the course of 
sin when once it finds welcome lodgment 
in the mind? See, other limbs are dy- 
ing ! My God ! the disease has reached 
the cedar's heart; the whole tree is 
blasted ; is dead ; the leaves and twigs 
fall off; the bark becomes the sport of 
the wind ; the sap rots off ; twice dead — 
ready to be plucked up by the roots ; it 
totters, falls. Great heaven ! what a 
havoc among the undergrowth!" 

Such the outline. I despair of filling- 
out the picture. The people who at first 
sat with fixed attention seemed to for- 



222 Suxday Evening Talks 

get their self-control, wept, sobbed, 
shrieked aloud. There stood the man 
of God filling the appointment of the 
presiding elder, who had basely fallen 
from his great height, and had been .sus- 
pended from the ministry, the Church 
bleeding at a thousand pores ! But of 
this I knew nothing at the time, for the 
preacher's delicacy was as great as his 
matchless eloquence. There was noth- 
ing in the discourse to suggest the sad 
event to one unacquainted therewith. 

Nearly fifty years hare gone by since 
that day. That eloquent voice has long 
been silent in death. That great throng 
has been scattered to the four winds. 
The old camp-ground has gone to wreck 
and ruin. But that sermon will abide 
in one memory forever — perhaps in the 
memory of thousands. 



With the Little Folks. 223 



A NEW- YEAR'S GIFT. 




:.^HEN your Uncle John was off 
Wl on the duties of his ministerial 
calling he wrote for the Sunday 
School Visitor an article which 
he will now give you instead of the 
evening tale. It was written five hun- 
dred miles from home. Here it is : 

the thousands and thousands of 
smiling little faces that were seen last 
Christmas morning! Old Santa Claus, 
that imaginary patron of the little folks, 
had been abroad on his mysterious mis- 
sion, filling tiny stockings and pretty 
pockets, and making young hearts glad 
with his presents. What surprises, and 
laughing, and prattling! If " Uncle 
John" could but turn Santa Claus one 
time and go abroad among the little 



224 Sunday Evening Talks 

folks, what a happy set there would be 
over presents rich and rare — the nicest 
and the best things in the world ! But 
no, he cannot be old Santa Claus ; he 
cannot give all the good things his 
warm heart would lead him to bestow. 
Here he must sit in his quiet room; 
not a baby, nor cat, nor dog, to keep 
him company ; his own dear little girls, 
Susie, and Bland, and Addie, in a far- 
off home with their mamma. No, he 
cannot be Santa Claus, but he can be 
" Uncle John," and he can write to the 
good Editor some words to be put into 
the Visitor for the little folks ; and then 
their sparkling eyes can read these 
words at the Sunday-school, or at their 
firesides. He can thus tell them that 
he wants each little one to make a New- 
year's gift — a gift that will cause more 
joy than ever Santa Claus made in the 
world ! 



With the Little Folks. 225 

Do you \^ant to hear what that gift 
is ? It is not like the opportune pres- 
ent many a noble boy sends home to 
gladden the heart of his devoted mother, 
nor is it like the tasteful gift of a duti- 
ful daughter, ornamented with her own 
hands and sent to her affectionate father. 
No; it is something richer and better 
than East India merchant ever sent 
home to nephew or niece in father-land 
— something more precious than pearls, 
or gold, or rubies, or diamonds bright. 
The gift asked at your hands is the 
most precious thing in all the world! 
God says, "Son, give me thy heart." It 
is your heart that is wanted. It must 
not be divided like an apple or an 
orange — it is the whole heart. I beg 
you to make such a " New-year's gift" 
to your Creator. If you will do so, he 
will form that heart all anew, and fill 
it with his love — fill it with joy and 
15 



226 Sunday Evening Talks 

peace passing all understanding. All 
heaven will rejoice over your gift, and 
in your new heart will be echoes of the 
heavenly melody. "There is joy in the 
presence of the angels of God over one 
sinner that repenteth" — over one that 
gives his whole heart to God. 

The Lord has said. "Thev that seek 

> «/ 

me early shall find me." There is noth- 
ing more proper that you can do than 
to remember your Creator in the days 
of your youth. Not the crown of En- 
gland would add to you such dignity ; for 
if you are a child of God. then an heir ! 
The loveliest thing beneath the sun is 
the offering of a young life to God. 
Here is a New-year's gift wortt the 
name. Your heart will be the safer in 
God's holy keeping. How many of 
the little folks wall make the offering ? 
Other things are of less value. Says 
Heber : 



With the Little Folks. 



227 



Say, shall we yield him, in costly devotion, 

Odors of Edom, and off'rings divine? 
Gems of the mountain, and pearls of the ocean, 

Myrrh from the forest, and gold from the 
mine? 
Vainly we offer each ample oblation, 

Yainly with gifts would his favor secure : 
Richer by far is the heart's adoration, 

Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor. 




228 Sunday Evening Talks 



"THOU GOD SEEST ME.' 1 




TJCH the exclamation of Hagar 
in the lonely wilderness, and 
such the abiding conviction of 
every man of thought. 
When the large-brained patriot, Dan- 
iel Webster, was asked what was the 
most ennobling thought that ever en- 
tered his mind, he answered, with an 
emphasis characteristic of his nature, 
"Man's accountability to his Grod." 

The more this reply is analyzed, the 
brighter its deep philosophy will ap- 
pear. 

Could we but impress the hearts of 
all with proper views of their constant 
accountability, the land would be less 
full of crime. The conviction would 
arrest the thief in his course, the liar in 



With the Little Folks. 229 

his conversation, the adulterer in his 
thought, the murderer in his intentions, 
the swearer in his slang, the Sabbath- 
breaker in his wickedness, the idolater 
in his sin, the wayward child in his 
rebellion — all men in their transgres- 
sions. 

Not only would the conviction of their 
constant and personal accountability 
deter them from crime, but it would 
stimulate "to every good word and 
work." It would lead us to "do justly, 
love mercy, and walk humbly with our 
God." Then there would be no more 
"destroying of widows' houses," or es- 
tates, no more defrauding of the orphan ; 
but a "visiting of widows and the or- 
phans in their affliction, and a keeping 
of ourselves unspotted from the world/' 
Then, too, might we expect an observ- 
ance of the Golden Rule: "Whatsoever 
ye would that men should do unto you, 



280 Sunday Evening Talks 

clo ye even so unto them, for this is the 
law and the prophets." 

Then what a source of consolation to 
the Christian, persecuted and maligned 
as he may be ! There is One higher 
than the highest of earth, who will re- 
ward the upright and punish the guilty, 
either here or hereafter: not a cup of 
cold water given to a disciple will be 
forgotten. This thought cheers the 
good in the performance of duty: the 
judge upon the bench, the mother at 
the fireside, the minister in his visita- 
tions — every one in his own vocation, at 
home or abroad, in adversity or pros- 
perity. The influence of this truth will 
be for good, and that continually. 

There can be no hiding of our actions, 
our words, our thoughts, from "Him 
that seeth in secret." The night and 
the day are alike to Him. He knoweth 
our thoughts afar off, He seeth the end 



With the Little Folks. 



231 



from the beginning. "When Jesus so- 
journed among men" lie needed not 
that any one should testify of men — he 
"knew their thoughts!" In this re- 
spect "he is the same yesterday, to-day, 
and forever." "0 wondrous knowl- 
edge, deep and high!" This thought, 
like the pillar of cloud, is the darkness 
of terror and restraint on the side of 
the wicked, and the light of consolation 
and encouragement on the side of the 
righteous. 




232 Sunday Evening Talks 



MOTTOES AND EMBLEMS. 




'HERE is much in the influence 
of mottoes and emblems, whether 
they be national or individual. 
The Eagle of Imperial Rome, 
the Lion of England, the Dragon of 
China, the Bear of Russia, the Crescent 
of Turkey, and the Stars of America — 
each emblem has made its influence felt 
upon the national character. And so 
with the coats of arms and legends 
adopted by families, or by particular 
associations. 

What memories cluster around the 
Shamrock in Ireland, the Thistle in 
Scotland, the Palmetto in South Caroli- 
na, the Lone Star in Texas, the Pine in 
Maine, and the Pelican in Louisiana ! 
What shall be the emblem of our lit- 



With the Little Folks. 233 

tie band? While reading to-day of 
Solomon's researches in the vegetable 
kingdom, from the stately cedar of Leb- 
anon to the little hyssop that springeth 
out of the wall, I was led to investigate 
the nature of the cedars mentioned in 
the Bible. I found one described as of 
twelve yards and six inches in girth ! 
Just think of such a cedar : twelve yards 
around its trunk ! Then how beautiful 
and grand such an evergreen tree ! How 
durable its wood, and never eaten of 
worms ! How aromatic its odor ! How 
it shames the short-lived things that 
come up and decay like Jonah's gourd ! 
While thinking of the great cedar, so 
great and durable, so aromatic and beau- 
tiful, the thought came up, "Why not 
make it the type of our friendship?" 
If so, here is an ode some one has com- 
posed concerning it. You will agree 
with me in thinking it very pretty : 



234 Sunday Evening Talks 

Some liken their love to the beautiful rose, 

And some, to the violet sweet in the shade; 
But the flower-queen dies when the summer- 
day goes, 
And the blue eye shuts up when the spring 
blossoms fade; 
So we '11 choose for our emblem a sturdier thing, 
We will go to the mountain and worship its 
tree; 
Then a health to the cedar — the evergreen 
king — 
Like the evergreen so shall our friendship be. 
The perfume it carries is deeply concealed, 
Not a breath of its scent will the branches 
impart; 
But how lasting and pure is the odor revealed 
In the inmost and deepest recess of its heart! 
It groweth in might and it liveth right long, 

And the longer it liveth the nobler the tree; 

Then a health to the cedar — the true and the 

strong — 

Like the evergreen so shall our friendship be. 

It remaineth unscathed by the deluge of light, 

When the flood of the sun-tide is pouring 

around ; 

And as firmly and bravely it meeteth the night, 



With the Little Folks. 235 

With the storm-torrent laden and the thun- 
der-cloud crowned. 
And so shall all changes which fortune can 
bring, 
Find our spirits unaltered and staunch as the 
tree ; 
Then a health to the cedar — the evergreen 
king — 
Like that evergreen so shall our friendship be. 

" The tree is large for the emblem of 
so small a band." So it is, my dears ; 
but that "evergreen king" never re- 
fused to shelter the little sparrows of 
Lebanon. 



236 Sunday Evening Talks 



GOD IS GOOD. 




?(U]N'DAY evening again, is it? 
Yes, blessed, bright, and beauti- 
ful the day; and the evening is 
just as sweet. To-day your Un- 
cle John tried to preach to the great 
congregation; now he will talk to his 
little "band of hope." God bless the 
little folks everywhere! Every one 
should love them and try to do them 
good. No picture of Jesus is more 
lovely than the one in which he is rep- 
resented as taking the little children 
up in his arms, putting his hands upon 
them, and blessing them, after saying, 
"Of such is the kingdom of heaven." 
Perhaps some of us like that picture 
more since he has taken our little ones 
to be with him in glory. How selfish 



With the Little Folks. 237 

to call them ours ! Were they not al- 
ways his ? 

But I sat down to tell you of the 
goodness of God. That he is good all 
ought to admit. And as a good and in- 
finitely wise Parent, he must often cross 
the will of his children, short-sighted as 
we are. Have not our own parents 
often had to do the same thing ? 

Once I was sick of fever, and so were 
my two older brothers. The doctor 
came and went; but mother watched 
us all the time. My oldest brother 
died ; two of us recovered. But as we 
began to mend, our appetites became 
clamorous for various articles of diet, 
some suitable and others otherwise. 
One day I wanted pie : others were eat- 
ing pie — why not I ? Of course, mother 
was begged, but she refused to give it 
— refused out of pure love to her child! 
I did not so understand it then ; but, 



238 Sunday Evening Talks 

weakened by disease, and peevish from 
hunger, I cried bitterly, and even had 
hard thoughts of one of the kindest and 
best mothers that ever lived. 

But she was firm, though the tears 
started from her eyes. Had she been 
a weak, foolish person, I might have 
relapsed and died. "A mother may 
forget her child," but our Parent in 
heaven forgets us never — no, never! 

When I got well I could see how 
foolish I had been; and now that she 
is gone from earth, I revere her mem- 
ory all the more for her denying my 
foolish petition. So of Grod : 

Good when he gives — supremely good — 
Nor less when he denies. 

We may not always see, at the time, 
the end he designs in his dealings with 
his children ; but we " shall know here- 
after." We have seen and heard so 
much, Ave can surely afford to trust him. 



With the Little Folks. 239 

Once my plans were laid to build me 
a home in a certain place. But my 
plans were suddenly all upset. Provi- 
dence led me elsewhere with my wife 
and little ones. The dreadful storm of 
war swept over the land. The site se- 
lected for a home was a battle-field! 
Not a vestige of the home would have 
remained! God had kept us out of 
danger! 

At another time, I visited a new city 
and bought a lot . on which to erect a 
home. Unexpected events occurred to 
change my plans. 

The rains descended and the °Teat 
freshet came, and steam-boats plowed 
the watery plain where my home might 
have been — w r here waters had never 
been known to rise before ! Again my 
family had been kept from ruin — per- 
haps from death. 

The longer I live the more reason I 



240 



Sunday Evening Talks 



see to "trust in the Lord and do good." 
"Again I say, trust in the Lord." 

E'en crosses from his sovereign hand 
Are blessings in disguise. 

Now, as the bell is ringing, we are to 
have prayers. I hope you will all pray 
in your hearts when we repeat that part 
of the Lord's Prayer which says, "Thy 
will be done" 




With the Little Folks. 241 



THE LORD'S PRAYER. 



*E closed our talk last Sunday 
W(Wi n ight with a reference to one 

**w^ petition contained in the Lord's 
Prayer. Let us consider that 
prayer more at length this evening. 

As we keep our few books in a book- 
case without shutters, you will please 
take down books of reference as they 
may be called for. 

And first, Emma, you may get that 
old book in the third shelf — that is the 
one. Now turn to the letter S, and 
read the prayer of Socrates. Socrates 
is believed to have been the best spec- 
imen of the moralist to be found outside 
of the Church. Now read the prayer 
he taught his young friend Alcibiades : 

"0 Jupiter! give us those things 
16 



242 Sunday Evening Talks 

which are good for us, whether they 
are such things as we pray for, or such 
things as we do not pray for ; and re- 
move from us those things which are 
hurtful, though they may be such thir/gs 
as we pray for." 

That is a prayer worthy of Socrates, 
perhaps the best form anywhere to be 
found among the heathen. But now 
some one please read the Lord's Prayer. 

" Why is it called the Lord's Prayer?" 
Because he taught his disciples to pray 
after this manner. There, Susie, you 
read it — I have marked it — in the New 
Testament : 

"Our Father which art in heaven, 
Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom 
come. Thy will be done in earth, as it 
is in heaven. Give us this day our 
daily bread. And forgive us our debts, 
as we forgive our debtors. And lead 
us not into temptation, but deliver us 



With the Little Folks. 243 

from evil. For thine is the kingdom, 
and the power, and the glory, forever. 
Amen." 

There! you will find no other form 
equal to that in all the books in the 
world ! All men may pray it : so com- 
prehensive, so divine! Nothing re- 
dundant, nothing wanting ! 

What is it, Elmer ? you want to see 
what Dr. Clarke says ? Well, there is 
his Commentary. Please read : 

" What satisfaction is it to learn from 
God himself with what words and in 
what manner he would have us pray to 
him so as not to pray in vain ! A King, 
who himself draws up the petition which 
he allows to be presented to himself, 
has doubtless the fullest determination 
to grant the request. We do not suf- 
ficiently consider the value of this 
prayer." 

All right ! Now, Frank, take down 



244 Sunday Evening Talks 

Watson : next to St. Paul, we have no 
better doctrinal teacher under Christ. 
Now, read carefully, and emphasize as 
he has done : 

"'It is the fountain of prayer,' says 
an ancient, ' from which we may draw 
praying thoughts.' In this view, the 
benefit which the Church of Christ has 
derived from it is incalculable. It 
teaches us to approach God with filial 
confidence as our Father, but with rev- 
erential awe of his sacred name; to ex- 
tend our desires beyond ourselves, and 
the prosperity of the particular society 
to which we belong, to the coming of 
Christ's universal Kingdom; it connects 
absolute submission to the practical 
will of God respecting us, with our 
earnestness to obtain the benefits he 
has to bestow; it teaches our depend- 
ence upon his providence for the sup- 
ply of our daily bread, and therefore ex- 



With the Little Folks. 245 

eludes an infidel confidence in mere 
second causes, and brings devotion into 
the daily business and enjoyments of 
life; it calls for confession of sin, and 
authorizes us to ask for forgiveness, and 
it reminds us that when we pray we 
are to forgive; it teaches us that with- 
out the aid of God we shall fall into 
temptation, and leads us to him as our 
refuge against the danger of evil and the 
evil one; and finally it turns prayer 
into praise, and calls up the grateful 
homage and ardent affections of the 
whole soul toward God in ascribing to 
him the glory due unto his name forever. 

"Into this divinely - prepared mold 
must all acceptable prayer be cast ; and 
he who regards these as general rules 
can never, as to the manner of 6 order- 
ing his cause' before God, pray amiss." 

Thank you ! Now, Mary, take down 
that little brown book on the fourth 



246 Sunday Evening Talks 

shelf — it was written by that grand old 
Anglo-American, Dr. Summers — and 
read one marked paragraph where a 
leaf is folded down : 

"It seems always to have been used 
as a form of public as well as private 
worship, and also as a model, and from 
its comprehensive fullness it is entitled 
to this distinction." 

You read very well. Walter, your 
time has come: take the first book on 
the second shelf, and read a marked 
portion, where that blue ribbon is : we 
will hear what the remarkable John 
Wesley says : 

"We may observe, in general, con- 
cerning this divine prayer: 1. That it 
contains all that we can reasonably or 
innocently pray for. There is nothing 
which we have need to ask of God, 
nothing which we can ask without of- 
fending him. which is not included, 



With the Little Folks. 247 

either directly or indirectly, in this com- 
prehensive form. 2. That it contains 
all that we can reasonably or inno- 
cently desire — whatever is for the glory 
of Grod, whatever is needful or profitable, 
not only for ourselves, but for every creat- 
ure in heaven and earth. And, indeed, 
our prayers are the proper tests of our 
desires, nothing being fit to have a place 
in our desires which is not fit to have 
a place in our prayers: what we may 
not pray for, neither should we desire. 3. 
That it contains all our duty to God and 
man; whatever things are pure, what- 
ever is acceptable in his sight, whatever 
it is whereby we may profit our neigh- 
bor, being expressed or implied therein." 
All right. Now, Asaphine, take down 
that new red book there in the upper 
shelf: it is Tupper — we will hear him. 
Open at the book-mark and read the 
marked passage : 



248 Sunday Evening Talks 

"In our prayers we ought to think 
first of Grod atid his honor before we 
think at all of ourselves, except it be 
for the purpose of acknowledging our 
intrinsic unworthiness in ourselves to 
speak to God. This is most strongly 
and unmistakably taught us by the con- 
struction of the Lord's Prayer. Short 
as it is, the first half consists of peti- 
tions for the hallowing of our Father's 
name, and the advance and coming of 
his kingdom, the fulfillment of his will 
by all; all this before we are led to 
think of ourselves at all — before we ask 
even for our strength in temptation, and 
rescue from evils of all kinds. These 
are necessary enough, and so we feel 
them, but they are nothing in compar- 
ison with those former petitions ; and, 
indeed, we must, of course, desire good 
things for ourselves only so far as they 
are consistent with the fulfillment of 



With the Little Folks. 249 

those petitions. So, again, it is through- 
out — our Father, give us, forgive us — 
not my Father, forgive me — utterly un- 
selfish. In both respects it has the 
very spirit of sacrifice from first to last." 

Well done, Asaphine. Now, George, 
it is your turn: please take up that 
ponderous, well-worn volume, the scrap- 
book ; you will find on page 99 a piece 
copied from "The Trumpet." In this 
case the trumpet gives no uncertain 
sound. Please read slow : 

" The spirit of the Lord's Prayer is 
beautiful. 

" It is a filial spirit : { Father' 

"A catholic spirit : ' Our Father.' 

"A reverential spirit : ' Hallowed be 
thy name.' 

"A missionary spirit : l Thy kingdom 
come.' 

"An obedient spirit : ' Thy will be 
done.' 



250 Sunday Evening Talks 

"A dependent spirit : i Give us this clay 
our daily bread.' 

"A repentant spirit: 'Forgive us our 
debts? 

"A forgiving spirit: 6 As we forgive 
our debtors.' 

"A cautious spirit : l Lead us not into 
temptation, but deliver us from evil.' 

"An adoring spirit: 'For thine is the 
kingdom, the power, and the glory! 

"A confidential spirit: { Forever. 
Amen? " 

You did not know there was so much 
in that Prayer ? And so the old man 
in Georgia did not know there was any 
thing of value in the stone he and his 
boys used as a " middle-man" in play- 
ing marbles — did not know it was a 
costly diamond till it had passed out of 
his hands ! 

But we will finish these readings with 
one more reference. Vic, it is your 



With the Little Folks. 251 

time : please take that other book lying 
on the table; it is open at the place; 
read the marked passage — it is from 
Watson : 

"Philosophy asks a reason for offering 
prayer, and, waiting for an answer, 
never prays at all. Religion hears that 
God will be inquired of by all, thank- 
fully bends the knee, touches the golden 
scepter, and bears away the blessing." 

Here we rest. You did not have a 
chance to go to meeting to-day on ac- 
count of the fearful storm ; but you have 
made up a capital sermon to-night. 

I hope you will all pray the Lord's 
Prayer every night before you close 
your eyes in sleep, and every morning 
before you go abroad to encounter the 
evils of the day. 




252 Sunday Evening Talks 



THE STARS. 

tS$1 f OW many stars are there ? was 
the question I heard one of you 
ask another as you came through 
the gate this evening. Of course 
no mortal can tell. Their number is 
greater than Methuselah could have 
counted in his long life-time. 

I remember that when a boy I came 
into my mother's presence while she 
was talking to my eldest brother about 
God. It was all new to me. Then and 
there was formed my idea of God — his 
eternity, his omnipresence, his power, 
his truth, and his love; and I have 
never had occasion to change the views 
then and there received. I have always 
been glad that I received them from my 
mother's lips. Often, after that talk, I 



With the Little Folks. 253 

would go out at night and gaze upon the 
beautiful stars shining in the wide heav- 
ens above. Xo preacher ever interested 
me more than these evangels of the 
skies, 

Forever singing as they shine, 
The Hand that made us is divine. 

Many a lesson was I taught by them. 
And when I grew older, and was taught 
to read the Bible, I was delighted to 
find therein so many allusions to the 
stars. To me they have ever been min- 
isters of instruction, showing forth the 
glory of Grocl. "While a student at col- 
lege, how delightful the lessons in as- 
tronomy ! how sweet the volumes of the 
immortal Dick that treated of " celestial 
scenery !" As a professor in college, it 
has been to me a delightful work to 
guide young men in their studies about 
the glittering objects seen in the deep- 
blue vault of heaven. 



254 Sunday Evening Talks 

I would advise all young people to 
make the stars a theme of frequent 
thought, and to gaze upon them in de- 
vout meditation. They have a tranquil- 
izing and a transforming power. 

If you will open your Bible at the 
19th Psalm, you may omit the words 
printed in italics, as they are not neces- 
sary — not in the original — and you can 
then see how forcible the thought : " The 
heavens declare the glory of Grod, and 
the firmament showeth his handiwork. 
Day unto day uttereth speech, and night 
unto night showeth knowledge. No 
speech nor language, their voice is not 
heard." Yet what so eloquent as this 
silence ? It is subduing in its influence 
upon the soul. Well has a poet said, 
"An undevout astronomer is mad." 
None but a David who, in his shepherd 
life, had gazed on the bright fields of 
creation above, could have said, " When 



With the Little Folks. 255 

I consider thy heavens, the work of thy 
fingers, the moon and the stars, which 
thou hast ordained ; what is man, that 
thou art mindful of him?" 

Please pay special attention to all you 
read about the stars. In all ages as- 
tronomy has been regarded as the most 
ennobling of the sciences ; and so will it 
continue to be to the end of time. It is 
the one science in which all nations and 
tongues have a common interest. 




256 Sunday Evening Talks 



THE COMMANDMENTS. 







OUR copy-book? Yes, George; 
you left it yesterday, when you 
came in to ask what was the di- 
viding line between ancient and 
modern history. 

By the way, you are improving your 
hand-writing very fast. I observed the 
last two pages had not a blot or blur. 
Your success is really encouraging. 
There is a world of meaning in the last 
copy: 

"Commandments ten God gave to men." 
What a great blessing that was, to 
give us directions what to do and what 
not to do ! And then what a mercy to 
crowd that information into the small 
compass of ten commands! Things 
might have had another shape. 



With the Little Folks. 257 

By your leave, let us get our Bibles 
and read the Ten Commandments : there 
happens to be just ten of us to-night. 
Who can tell where we can find the 
Commandments ? 

"In the 20th chapter of Exodus." 
That is right, Elmer. Let us take them 
in turn. Elmer may begin. But be- 
fore we read a word, let us note two 
facts : 

1. These commands were written with 
the finger of God in stone— enduring 
stone — to show us that the commands 
were to endure to all generations ; while 
the other directions to the Levites were 
written on perishable material, like pa- 
per, to show that those things were to 
pass away. 

2. These commands are as binding on 
us as if we were to hear God speaking 
them to us right out of the blue sky, 
this holy Sabbath evening. But read : 

17 



258 Sunday Evening Talks 

(Elmer reads). " Thou shalt have no 
other gods before me." 

(Bland reads), " Thou shalt not 
make unto thee any graven image, or 
any likeness of any thing that is in 
heaven above, or that is in the earth 
beneath, or that is in the water under 
the earth : thou shalt not bow clown thy- 
self to them, nor serve them ; for I the 
Lord thy God am a jealous God, visit- 
ing the iniquity of the fathers upon the 
children unto the third and fourth gen- 
eration of them that hate me ; and show- 
ing mercy unto thousands of them that 
love me, and keep my commandments." 

(Joseph reads). " Thou shalt not 
take the name of the Lord thy God in 
vain; for the Lord will not hold him 
guiltless that taketh his name in vain." 

(George reads). " Remember the 
Sabbath-day to keep it holy. Six days 
shalt thou labor, and do all thy work ; 



s 



With the Little Folks. 259 

but the seventh day is the Sabbath of 
the Lord thy God : in it thou shalt not 
do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy 
daughter, thy man-servant, nor thy maid- 
servant, nor thy cattle, nor thy stranger 
that is within thy gates ; for in six days 
the Lord made heaven and earth, the 
sea, and all that in them is, and rested 
the seventh day; wherefore the Lord 
blessed the Sabbath-day, and hallowed 
it." 

Well done: these four commands 
make up the first tablet — our duty to- 
ward God. Now read the other tablet — 
our duties toward man. 

(Susie reads). " Honor thy father 
and thy mother ; that thy days may be 
long upon the land which the Lord thy 
God giveth thee." 

(Albert reads). " Thou shalt not kill." 

(Asaphine reads). " Thou shalt not 
commit adultery." 



260 Sunday Evening Talks 

(Walter reads). " Thou shalt not 
steal." 

(Addie reads). " Thou shalt not bear 
false witness against thy neighbor." 

(Uncle John reads). " Thou shalt 
not covet thy neighbor's house, thou 
shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife, nor 
his man-servant, nor his maid-servant, 
nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing 
that is thy neighbor's." 

Such is the marvelous code engraved 
in stone by the Almighty Hand. What 
a heaven on earth, if everybody would 
keep these commands in letter and in 
spirit ! 

I confess it is rather hard for little 
people to retain these long commands in 
memory. You can memorize the sub- 
stance of them, in meter, as found in an 
old Parish Register, at Laschester, in 
England, 1685, nearly two hundred 
years ago: 



"With the Little Folks. 261 

1. Have no other God but me: 

2. Unto no image bow the knee. 

3. Take not the name of God in vain: 

4. Bo not the Sabbath-day profane. 

5. Honor thy father and mother too; 

6. And see that thou no murder do. 

7. From vile adultery keep thou clean; 

8. And steal not, though thy state be mean. 

9. Bear no false witness — shun that blot: 
10. What is thy neighbor's covet not 

This paraphrase, if not the text, 
you ought to commit to memory; for 
" Blessed are they that do His com- 
mandments." 

The Saviour has subordinated the 
Ten Commandments to love, the con- 
trolling principle of the new dispensa- 
tion. The first four commands — the 
first tablet — he condenses into " Thou 
shalt love the Lord thy God with all 
thy heart;" and the last six commands 
— the second tablet — he condenses into 
" Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thy- 



262 Sunday Evening Talks 

self." " On these two commandments 
hang all the law and the prophets." 
For " if we love God, we will keep his 
commandments ;" and " love worketh 
no ill to his neighbor." The apostle 
very justly condenses the whole into 
one word, love: "Love is the fulfilling 
of the law." Hence the philosophy of 
the Saviour's "new commandment ) that ye 
love one another." 

" Do n't I think it is easier to do right 
than wrong?" Why, certainly it is! 
The Bible and experience alike declare, 
" The way of the transgressor is hard;" 
while of wisdom it is said, " Her ways 
are ways of pleasantness, and all her 
paths are peace." 

As I said before, what a happy world, 
if everybody would keep the Command- 
ments ! 

1. Wo gods but Jehovah. 

2. No idolatry. 



With the Little Folks. 263 

3. No profanity. 

4. Holy, happy Sabbath-days. 

5. Parents honored and children 
blessed. 

6. No bloody murders. 

7. Everybody chaste and pure. 

8. No stealing, no defrauding. 

9. No lies in court or elsewhere. 
10. No wrong desires for the things 

of others. 

Matters are sadly otherwise now, and 
the Lord, by the mouth of his prophet, 
exclaims, " that thou hadst hearkened 
to my commandments ! then had thy 
peace been as a river, and thy righteous- 
ness as the waves of the sea," 



264 Sunday Evening Talks 



THE MOURNING BRIDE. 




LE ASE tell you another story ? 

Certainly. 

Just below where the French 

Broad leaves the mountains in 
its passage from North Carolina to Ten- 
nessee, and overlooking one of the most 
graceful curves of that beautiful river, 
stood in the good old times before the 
war the hospitable home of a Mr. Alex- 
ander. The scenery there is delightful : 
the undulating country around, the mur- 
muring river rolling by on its long jour- 
ney to the sea, the great Alleghany 
Mountain stretching out in both direc- 
tions from the Paint Rock as far as the 
eye can see. 

It was to this place I was called to 
celebrate the rites of marriage, early 



With the Little Folks. 265 

one bright, lovely Sabbath morn, in the 
summer of 1853. The orchards along 
the road were ready to break with an 
unusually heavy crop of ripening fruit ; 
the fields were covered with a rich crop 
of corn ; all the trees had on their best 
summer dress ; fishes sported in the 
clear waters where every tiny wave re- 
flected the golden rays of the newly 
risen sun ; and birds were singing every- 
where their sweetest Sunday songs. 

Is there a time when moments flow 

More charmingly than all beside? 
It is of all the times below 

A Sunday morn in summer-tide. 
O then the rising sun shines fair, 

And all below, and all above, 
The different forms of nature wear 

One universal look of love. 

Thus was nature, at seven o'clock 
a.m., when I alighted at the gate of Mr. 
Alexander. A trusty negro servant was 



266 Sunday Evening Talks 

waiting to take care of my horse. As I 
entered the piazza, the bride's father re- 
ceived me very courteously ; but it was 
apparent that deep, consuming grief was 
preying upon his heart. Not that he 
disliked the match — the marriage of his 
eldest child to a worthy son of the old 
Palmetto State; no, but grief from a 
different and sufficient cause. Just a 
week before his neighbors had gathered 
there around the pale form of his de- 
ceased wife, the bride's mother, to place 
it in the grave. 

By request, I entered the family-room, 
where I found no one but the bride's 
aged, long-widowed grandmother, who 
for years had been in a helpless condi- 
tion. Her salutation was truly warm 
and motherly. On the coming in of 
some of the family, she requested to be 
raised up in her bed, that she might see 
what was about to occur. 



With the Little Folks. 267 

Mr. Alexander soon entered in solemn 
mood, followed by an only son just 
passed into his teens. His youngest 
daughter, clad in mourning, then came 
in, and took her place near her father 
and brother. In a side room were 
ranged the servants, all interested spec- 
tators of the scene. The only other sis- 
ter, also clad in mourning, then entered, 
as bridesmaid, accompanied by a young 
gentleman in the capacity of groomsman ; 
and these were followed by the bride and 
the bridegroom. None besides were 
present. The bridal dress was taste- 
fully shaded in mourning. Mourning 
for what? For her lately deceased 
mother ? Yes, in part ; but the bride 
could not but remember that "in the 
midst of life we are in death." There 
was her aged grandmother, a widow, 
soon to bid adieu to earthly scenes; 
there, too, was her sorrowing father, 



268 Sunday Evening Talks 

freshly bereaved of his companion ; and 
there was herself, who, a few brief years 
before, had stood at this same altar and 
plighted faith with another son of South 
Carolina whom death suffered not long 
to live ! What a dark day followed her 
other marriage morning ! Nor was this 
all: her present partner, standing now 
by her side, had in like manner been 
robbed by the remorseless enemy of 
his former companion ! Death had 
made sad havoc all around; and what 
assurance had she that the relentless 
archer would leave her long undis- 
turbed? But, shaded in sables, she 
leaned upon a trusty arm. Soon I com- 
pleted the task assigned me, and pro- 
nounced the pair husband and wife, in 
the name of the Father, and of the Son, 
and of the Holy Grhost. 

They retired. 

In a few moments we were all called 



With the Little Folks. 269 

into the dining-room, to partake of a 
wedding-breakfast. 

Sickness and death had delayed this 
marriage from time to time, till circum- 
stances called loudly for the Carolinian's 
return to his home in the South ; and 
rather than that he should go all alone, 
it was thought advisable that the union 
should take place, even at this early 
date after the death of the bride's moth- 
er. And who, taking all the circum- 
stances into the account, will say that it 
was wrong? 

Breakfast over, Mr. Alexander and I 
were on the porch, conversing about his 
bereavements, when a little boy, his only 
grandchild, came up to him, and com- 
menced climbing upon his knees. This 
led him to speak of another bereave- 
ment when his daughter would take this 
her only child — the dear pledge of love 
in her former marriage — to her new and 



270 Sunday Evening Talks 

distant home in the South. Here he 
could not refrain from tears, as he re- 
counted his various and sore trials and 
bereavements, in the loss of wife, daugh- 
ter, and grandson, in such rapid succes- 
sion. The child saw the tears in his 
grandfather's eyes, and wishing to know 
the cause, said, " Grandpa, what ijiakes 
you cry so?" 

There was too much emotion to an- 
swer ; the question had probed his sore 
heart to the very core. I trembled lest 
the little innocent prattler should repeat 
his probing question. This he soon did, 
with a meaning emphasis, " What makes 
you cry, grandpa?" My own tears be- 
gan to flow ; and so I rose up and went 
into the room to talk with the aged in- 
valid. The time soon arrived for us to 
start to the village church, distant some 
seven miles. The bride and her two 
sisters came forth in full mourning. 



With the Little Folks. 271 

How could they, with propriety, have 
gone otherwise to the little village, 
where, the Monday before, the remains 
of their mother had been committed to 
the cold, clamp, dark grave? But they 
were not alone in their sables ; others, 
too, had been called to mourn. 

The services of the sanctuary closed. 
I handed to the bridegroom a Church- 
letter for his wife, that she might, at 
once, on her arrival at her new home in 
the South, enjoy her cherished member- 
ship among the people of God. 

We parted: she to her distant home, 
I to the bedside of my sick wife a hun- 
dred miles away. 

Many a wedding have I attended, but 
none like this ; and many a bride have 
I seen adorned for her husband, but 
none more appropriately attired than 
this one, all things considered. Years 
have come and gone, bringing a thou- 



272 



Sunday Evening Talks 



sand scenes, among them the dire reali- 
ties of the great war : vet mv memory 
often brings up, with wonderful distinct- 
ness, the unusual appearance of the 
mourning bride. 

But enough for to-night. Xext Sun- 
day night I will give you a story in 
brighter colors, 




With the Little Folks. 273 



THE BIRD'S SERMON. 



f^^^wHE hour has come for our Sun- 
day evening talk, and here you 
all are ready to hear it. This 
time it will be about a little bird 
that preached a great sermon. 

What did Charley say — "A little bird 
could not be heard by a great congrega- 
tion?" But Charley will please re- 
member that I did not say it preached 
to a great congregation, but that it 
preached a great sermon. Some of the 
greatest sermons ever preached have 
been to very small audiences. Such 
was the one preached by Jesus to the 
woman at the well, and the one preached 
to Xicodemus under the covert of the 
night. 

In the case now before us, the ser- 
18 



274 Sunday Evening Talks 

mon was preached by the bird to a poor 
sick boy who had long lain in his little 
bed in a neat cottage in the city. He 
had been under the doctor's care for 
many a dreary day and weary night. 
For some three months he had not been 
at the Sunday-school nor at Church. 
Other children's happy voices came in 
at his little window raised to admit the 
cool morning breeze. But poor Harry 
lay there scorched with fever and often 
racked with pain. The roses had faded 
from his cheeks, and strength from his 
limbs. His anxious mother tried to 
cheer his mind now by singing some 
little favorite air; at another time by 
bringing him a beautiful bouquet of 
flowers ; and then again by telling him 
some interesting tale. Thus she nursed 
him day and night. How carefully she 
smoothed his pillow, and how tenderly 
she softened out his couch! The Lord 



"With the Little Folks. 275 

had his eye upon such a mother when 
he promised to the Christian to "make 
his bed in his sickness." 

Another weary night had Harry 
passed through. The welcome, glorious 
morn had come with its dews upon the 
flowers, and its melody of birds, and its 
hum of the populace. 

Harry never before felt so weak and 
so out of heart. He feared he should 
never be well again. 

Harry's mother had bathed his hands 
and face — had carefully arranged his 
bed and combed his young hair — kad 
righted the room, opened the window, 
kissed her boy, and gone out to prepare 
him some delicate nourishment to re- 
vive his wasted strength. 

Just then Harry's pet bird, having 
escaped from its cage in the porch, came 
hopping across the window-sill and 
perched upon the forefinger of his left- 



276 Sunday Evening Talks 

hand. Which was the better pleased, 
Harry or his pet bird, it would be hard 
to tell. What the bird said who can 
tell? Harry's mother, hearing him 
talking, hurried back to find her son 
smiling and talking to his pet. Pie 
seemed in a pleasant excitement, and 
for the first time in many a day shed 
tears, not of sorrow, but of gladness; 
and from that time he grew better and 
better. 

He afterward told his mother that 
the sympathy and music of the bird 
miKie him glad ; and that he felt gladder 
still when he thought that God, who had 
given such beauty and music to the 
birds, had said that human beings "are 
of more value than many sparrows." 

Soon Harry began to regain the roses 
on the cheek, the luster of the eye, the 
strength of limb, and the courage of the 
mind ; but his attachment for birds, es- 



With the Little Folks. 



277 



pecially his pet, grew stronger than 
ever. He thinks birds are among the 
best preachers in the world — ever 
preaching of the providence and good- 
ness of God. 

The birds without barn or store-house are fed; 
From them let us learn to trust for our bread : 
His saints what is fitting shall ne'er be denied 
So long as 'tis written, " The Lord will provide." 




278 Sunday Evening Talks 



INDIAN CORK 




jjjjf AVE some parched corn? No, 
I thank you ; my teeth are too 
feeble for that. But I well re- 
member how much I once en- 
joyed the sweet morsel, just as you all 
do this evening, sitting around the fam- 
ily hearth-stone. 

Indian corn was a great addition to 
the food-plants used by our race. You 
read in the Bible of the " corn of wheat " 
— wheat grains or kernels. There was 
also barley, and perchance rye and rice ; 
but the world outside of America knew 
nothing of maize, the botanical name of 
which is Zea mays. 

Were I a Virgil, I would sing the 
praises of Indian corn. Should not 
this, instead of the eagle, have been the 



With the Little Folks. 279 

emblem of our country ? The first per- 
manent settlement of the English in 
America — that at Jamestown, Virginia 
— was saved from death by a supply of 
Indian corn obtained from the natives. 
And was not a like deliverance vouch- 
safed to the second permanent settle- 
ment — that at Plymouth, Massachu- 

setts? And so was manv another one 

*/ 

of the settlements made in the early 
colonial and territorial times. 

How easy to carry along on the pack- 
horse or ox-cart a little seed-corn ! This 
put in the ground would become a crop 
— many a hundred - fold — in three 
months ! This became a ready means 
of subsistence, or auxiliary, with veni- 
son, turkey, fish, and bear, in sustaining 
the young colony in the wilderness. If 
deep snows fell and the supply of game 
failed, then parched corn, hominy, and 
hoe-cake, saved from starvation. 



280 Sunday Evening Talks 

In summer the roast-ear and the succo- 
tash were articles of luxury, if not of ne- 
cessity. Corn fed to hogs augmented 
the supply of meat, and gave security 
against times of want. 

The frontiersman, in pursuing the 
marauding foe, found parched corn a 
necessity for his own support, and a few 
ears of corn a great aid in supporting 
his faithful horse. Beaten in a mortar, 
grated upon perforated tin, ground in a 
mill propelled by hand or other power, 
corn served for bread ere the wheat cul- 
ture and flouring appliances could be 
introduced into a new country. But 
even after wheat was available, great 
use was made of the corn-fritter, the 
hoe-cake, the dish of mush, the muffin, 
egg-bread, the dodger, the pone, and the 
many other preparations of maize. In 
a thousand ways has Indian corn aided 
the American settler. 



With the Little Folks. 281 



A LOKELY WIDOW. 




'XOTHER story? Yes, gladly, 
upon the old conditions : quiet- 
ness and attention. 

In the first year of our wedded 
life, your Aunt Lizzie and I passed a 
day at the home of the preacher on an 
adjoining circuit. We there met a 
woman dressed in deep mourning. Her 
face, though naturally one of superior 
beauty, was sad — very sad. The tell- 
tale tears oft bedimmed her deep-blue 
eyes. She was the widow of an itin- 
erant preacher that had lately died. 
Her father and mother had also but 
lately died in Missouri. Here she was, 
trying to make her way back to the 
old homestead, to take charge of her 
father's estate that had fallen to her 



2*82 Sunday Evening Talks 

as the only heir. It was soon arranged 
that she was to accompany us to our 
humble home. Thence I was to convey 
her to Dr. Patton's, in Khoxville, Tenn. 
Thence she was to go by stage and boat 
to St. Louis, and thence again by stage 
to Bolivar, near which town was her old 
home, the home of her girlhood. You 
must remember that we had no railroad 
facilities then. 

Her sojourn made a deep impression 
on our minds. For once I tried my 
hand at poetry, to the measure of the 
" Exile of Erin." Faulty as it may be, 
here is the production : 

There lodged with us once a poor heart-broken 
stranger, 
The tear in her blue eye was telling of 
woe: 
Not a friend was there with her in travel and 
danger, 
Though hundreds of miles she had started 
to go — 



With the Little Folks. 283 

Far away to the home of her life's early pleas- 
ure, 

Whence late she had wandered with him loved 
beyond measure — 

Her husband, a preacher, an early lost treasure, 
Who had died in his prime and left her alone. 

" Lone, lone is my fate," said the woe-stricken 
fair one, 

" So lonely and helpless no one do I see. 
They all have relations, and each, too, a dear one, 

A fireside of kindred is nowhere for me. 
Not a friend is there left me — my father and 

mother 
Died of late, far away — the one, then the other, 
And never had I a dear sister or brother, 

To whom I could go — O I feel so alone! 

I will hasten me on to the home of my child- 
hood; 
But lonely it stands there ; it falls to my care : 
My home it is not, more lone than a wildwood, 
Since gone are the dear ones that dwelt with 
me there. 
Never more can I spend there the long linger- 
ing hours, 



284 



Sunday Evening Talks 



In that parlor and porch and the garden of 
flowers, 

And hear there the night-sounds, the winds, 
and the showers — 
To the grave of my husband I'll haste to re- 
turn." 




With the Little Folks. 285 



BOLD THINKERS. 



?0 I like a bold thinker? Of 
course I do : a resolute mind — 
one not afraid to think for itself. 
Says a modern writer, " Little 
as it seems to do so, fearless inquiry 
tends continually to give a firmer basis 
to all true religion." 

Honest coin dreads not the mint. 
We prize the man who dares think for 
himself, like a Copernicus, a Oalileo, a 
Columbus, a Newton, a Fulton, a Morse, 
a Luther, a Wesley — a man who can 
stand apart from the common crowd 
and despise their ignorant jeers. In 
such a case there is true heroism, as 
great as was ever shown by a Welling- 
ton or a Lee. 

As long as men occupy different 



286 Sunday Evening Talks 

stand-points, so long is it possible for 
an honest man to have an opinion dif- 
ferent from that of his honest neighbor. 
Who would blame an honest man for 
expressing an honest opinion, if done in 
a prudent, candid, respectful manner? 
Toleration of each other's honest opin- 
ions is alike the dictate of sound reason 
as well as of pure religion. Ignorance 
and bigotry are always intolerant. 

Again, men advance in knowledge. 
The higher one ascends the "hill of 
science" the wider becomes his horizon. 
Paul once thought as a child; after- 
ward he put away childish things and 
thought as a man — just as every manly 
intellect does at the present day. Luther 
and Wesley changed their earlier views 
on many points ; and it would have 
been well for their followers had the 
changes gone a little farther. No mor- 
tal is infallible, unless it be "the infal- 



With the Little Folks. 287 

lible fool!" That the pope of Rome 
claims infallibility is conclusive proof 
of mental disorder or knavish pretense ! 
There is none infallible but God. None 
of us must dream that we are free from 
error; nor must we think that those 
who differ from us have no truths on 
their side. Most men have more truths 
than errors ; and this is all that any of 
us can claim for ourselves or our friends. 

Examine the currency as much as 
you please: it is wise to do so, and 
foolish to allow yourselves to be im- 
posed upon by tricksters. "Try the 
spirits," said the apostle. "Prove all 
things ; hold fast to that which is good." 

Even among the deluded believers in 
witchcraft there was a wise practice en- 
joined: whoever imagined he saw a 
ghost was to address the same in the 
name of the Holy Trinity and demand 
what it wanted. Such persons soon 



288 Sunday Evening Talks 

found themselves talking to stumps, 
stones, bushes, sheep, calves, and geese ! 
Thus was the superstition exploded. 

Once there was a famous pulpit ghost, 
Tom Paine's "Age of Reason" so called. 
But when intelligent men began to ask, 
"What are you? " they found that the 
people had been frightened by a "goose" 
hatched in the French Revolution, at 
the beginning of the "Reign of Terror." 
Like other ghosts, it had its day. Its 
unfairness is now admitted by all well- 
informed persons. 

Christianity challenges investigation. 
Nothing that is good fears the light of 
truth. A religion that would not stand 
the test in Athens was not worthy of 
the Apostle Paul. The tree is ever 
known by its fruit. True religion and 
true science blend as the colors of the 
rainbow — both the offspring of the 
Father of Lights. 



With the Little Folks. 289 

But there is a great difference be- 
tween a bold thinker and a bold talker. 
Empty vessels make the greatest noise. 
Shallow-brained people are often the 
loudest talkers. Socrates and Franklin, 
among the boldest thinkers, were pro- 
verbial for their meekness in conversa- 
tion. "Seest thou a man wise in his 
own conceit? There is more hope of 
a fool than of him." 

But the rest of -the family are coming 
through the hall to prayers. Again we 
must adjourn. 
19 



290 Sunday Evening Talks 



THE MERCHANT. 




TELL, little folks, you will allow 

me to-niglit a little liberty. 

Here is a jewel of poetry in 

" The Casket," which four of 

you may read : 

Katie. Tare and tret, 

Gross and net, 
Box and hogshead, dry and wet — 

Keady-made, 

Of every grade, 
"Wholesale, retail, will you trade? 
Joseph. Goods for sale, 

Roll or bale ; 
Ell or quarter, yard or nail — 

Every dye, 

Will you buy? 
None can sell so cheap as I. 
Addie. Thus each day 

Wears away, 
And his hair is turning gray! 



"With the Little Folks. 291 

O'er his books 

He nightly looks, 
Counts his gains and bolts his locks. 
Walter. By and by 

He will die — 
But the ledger -book on high 

Shall unfold 

How he sold, 
How he got and used his gold. 

Very well clone ! But you must not 
think the merchant alone will be held 
to a strict account; for we must all 
stand before the judgment-seat of Christ. 
Hence the poet sings : 

How careful, then, ought I to live ! 

With what religious fear! 
"Who such a strict account must give 

For my behavior here ! 

Every day we should live as if we 
were going immediately to judgment, 
and also as if we might have to stay 
here for years to come. 



292 Sunday Evening Talks 



LITTLE THINGS. 




me my glasses, that I may 
see what is the matter with Ar- 
thur's gold pen. Yes, now I 
see: one of the points is out. 
Gold is too soft for long wear ; and the 
makers of the pens put hard points on 
them — not diamond points, as they are 
called, but iridium, or some other hard 
metal. We will send it back in ex- 
change for a new r one. 

By the way, the longer you live the 
more will you be careful about little 
things. Our world is made up of little 
atoms. 

Little drops of water, 

Little grains of sand, 
Make the mighty ocean, 
And the beauteous land. 



With the Little Folks. 293 

And the little moments, 
Humble though they be, 

Make the mighty ages 
Of eternity. 

A nursery story thus enforces the im- 
portance of caring for little things : U A 
smith neglected to clinch a horseshoe- 
nail. For want of the clinch the nail 
was lost. For want of the nail the shoe 
was lost. For want of the shoe the 
horse was lost. For want of the horse 
the rider was overtaken and his mes- 
sage was captured. For want of the 
message the army was lost. For want 
of an army the king was dethroned and 
the people deprived of their homes and 
liberties. All for the want of clinching 
a horseshoe-nail!" 

Franklin, the prince of practical phi- 
losophers, advised us to take care of the 
pennies, and the pounds would take care 
of themselves — that is, take care of the 



294 Sunday Evening Talks 

little things, and the large ones would 
be safe. We generally stumble over 
little things — seldom over large stumps 
or bowlders. 

A little spark from a Dutchman's 
pipe burned many steam-boats at St. 
Louis. A very little fire burned down 
great Chicago. A little wicked word 
may provoke a personal combat that 
may inflame whole nations in a dread- 
ful war of devastation. 

You take up your Bible, the inesti- 
mable gift of God to man. It came to 
man through a long succession of centu- 
ries. Yet it is made up of little words ; 
and these words of little letters, few in 
number ! 

The countless shades of color seen in 
all the works of nature and of art, are 
but various combinations of three ele- 
mentary colors — the red, the yellow, 
and the blue ! 



With the Little Folks. 295 

Nothing should be despised because 
it may appear to be little or insignificant. 
In an acorn-cup sleeps not only a giant 
oak, but, potentially, a forest — a whole 
fleet of the royal navy ! A little Corsican 
babe shook the world with his cannon ! 
A little German child brought on the 
great Reformation, with the revival of 
learning, the age of discovery, and the 
elevation of the race ! 

You know not what an influence you 
may be destined to exert in the world. 
Shall it be for good, or shall it be for 
evil? 

Be true to your country, to yourselves, 
and to your God. Then will your influ- 
ence be good, and only good, continually. 



296 Sunday Evening Talks 



THE FOOT-PRINTS. 




UR talk to-night will be about 
the tracks made by a horse in 
the sand. Perhaps the prints 
were destroyed by the next fall- 
ing shower; yet they remained long 
enough to be read by a preacher who 
will remember them forever. 

Along the confines of Kentucky and 
West Virginia is a stretch of very poor 
country, watered by the Big Sandy and 
other rivers. It is mountainous, and 
the facilities for travel are not as good 
as in the older parts of the country. 
To one who has never seen such a wild 
region, all appears grand and gloomy, 
but the people who live there enjoy it. 

Along the rapid water-courses are 
little level patches. These are culti- 



With the Little Folks. 297 

vated by the mountaineers, who, by- 
hunting and fishing, and by use of 
domesticated animals that feed upon 
the range, are enabled to live in a 
manner that most people have never 
dreamed of in all their lives. 

To send the gospel to these poor peo- 
ple is the work of the Missionary So- 
ciety. On one occasion the missionary 
was a young married man of rare prom- 
ise: two of his brothers judges, his 
father in some government employ- 
ment, himself a talented and ardent 
preacher. But to this poor country 
was he sent ; and along with him went 
his heroic wife. She had been brought 
up by one of the well-to-do Virginia 
families. Rather delicate in her build, 
and rather taller than most women of 
her weight, she might have been re- 
garded as of feeble constitution. But 
she was full of energy. Her complex- 



298 Sunday Evening Talks 

ion was very fair, her eves of hazel 
hue, her cheeks rosy, her lips always 
set off with a radiant smile or its im- 
pression. Lovelier missionaries never 
mounted horses for the region of Big 
Sandy. 

The pair reached their field of labor. 
It was wild and rugged in the extreme. 
Foot-paths and cow-trails were more in 
vogue than roads. One unacquainted 
with such a district can hardly imagine 
how rugged the roads in use, nor how 
much they lie along the rocky water- 
courses, crossing and recrossing in 
search of more available ground. Twen- 
ty-seven times does the traveler have 
to ford one of the streams on his way 
up a single valley. 

On one occasion the missionary and 
his wife seemed to have reached the 
end of the road, rough and almost im- 
passable as it had been for miles, if 



With the Little Folks. 299 

miles are ever measured there. All 
around was desolation. The preacher 
reined up his tired horse and expressed 
his resolution to try to find the way 
back to the settlement they had seen 
far in the rear. 

The quick eye of the wife espied in 
the sand the prints of a horse's hoof — 
some mill-boy or hunter had been that 
way before. She pointed to the tracks 
and said, "Dear, where any one has 
gone I can follow," and putting whip to 
her horse, she pressed onward! The 
husband felt the rebuke and pressed 
after. Fortunately they found their 
way out of their difficulty, and reached 
the appointment on time. 

From this little circumstance let us 
learn a lesson or two. 

Women are slow to encounter dan- 
ger, but when endurance is demanded, 
they are less ready to falter than men. 



300 



Sunday Evening Talks 



Women often have the greatest 
amount of endurance in a work of faith 
and labor of love. It is not the women 
that falter in the itinerant work, in the 
school-room, in the hospital, or in the 
sick-chamber. True heroism is more 
frequently exemplified by delicate wom- 
an than by her boastful companion. 




With the Little Folks. 301 



A BROKEN CHAIN. 




B> 



T was Sunday evening in the 
winter of 1849-50. A deep snow 
VJ covered the earth and dark clouds 
covered the sky. Cold blasts 
moaned through the naked tree-tops 
and whistled around the house-corners 
and through the key-hole of the door 
that opened as some of the family en- 
tered or left the room we occupied. A 
blazing wood-fire warmed the apartment. 
Around the hearth -stone gathered a 
lovely household — Rev. W. P. Bishop, 
his wife, some half-dozen children, and 
the circuit preacher. Part of the group 
had been at the morning service at 
Elizabeth Chapel, near Saltville, Vir- 
ginia. By common consent there was 
no evening service. For an hour or 



302 Sunday Evening Talks 

more we were busy studying the Bible 
as a class. We read verses alternately. 
Comments were made and questions an- 
swered. Sometimes we made references, 
consulted commentaries, or compared 
with the original Greek. All felt it was 
good to be there. A song or two gave 
an additional zest to the occasion. 

A painter never had a better group 
for a model Christian family. 

Some one quoted a couplet : 

How sweet a Sabbath thus to spend, 
In hope of one that ne'er shall end! 

Another said: "But a few years 
hence, how broken will be this circle!" 
I looked around. Angie, the eldest 
daughter, was in tears ; Ben and Hor- 
ace, who afterward became preachers — 
all the children caught the infection. 
The father and mother and the circuit 
preacher were soon in the same condi- 



With the Little Folks. 303 

tion. Our evening prayers that night 
welled up from hearts full of feeling. 
Next morning we parted. How widely 
have our several barks been sundered 
on the sea of life! From Virginia to 
Texas ! The father has long slept with 
the pious dead — perhaps others also 
have crossed the river. Now and then 
we hear a message from a surviving 
member of that once happy family. 

Often memory calls up the image of 
that family — a dissevered chain, whose 
links are scattered far and wide. And 
my own father's family — how like the 
other! 'tis sweet to think of a re- 
union where love and friendship never 
die! 

We have met here around our hearth- 
stone on Sunday evenings the past year. 
We have met to-night for the last time 
in this world. To-morrow one leaves 
for Oregon ; next day another will lr ave 



304 Sunday Evening Tales. 

for school far from home ; next week a 
third will go to his distant Southern 
home to return no more. Death will 
sooner or later claim us all — every one. 
I hope we shall meet again in the sun- 
bright clime. That we may all meet in 
heaven, let us all kneel down and ask 
the Father of mercies for his guidance 
and blessing. Let us pray. 



THE END. 



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